Not Indefatigable
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: Marrissa Story #20, Stargazer Era. She's a First Officer on a carrier, in a war zone, trying to never show signs of strain. She has limits, and she's going to crack
1. Chapter 1

**Not Indefatigable**

ASC Story Header

Title: Not Indefatigable

Author: Stephen Ratliff

Series: OCC, Marrissa Stories #20

Rating: [PG] for mild language and partial nudity

Codes:

Part:

Summary: Young Marrissa Picard is a girl who appears to have everything going for her. It's thought that she never shows the strain of being First Officer of a carrier in a war zone. But an adolescent has limits, and amid Dominion attacks from without, and hostility towards her, her veneer cracks...

Off to War Has Gone . . .

Not Indefatigable

**Author's Forward**

November 22, 1993; a day that will live in infamy ... or at least if you believe the MiSTing Community. It was the day I posted my first story, Enterprized, to .creative. I had no idea at the time that some 30+ stories later I'd still be here, and posting stories. I've chosen today, ten years after that date, to begin posting yet another Marrissa Story.

When I started, this was all supposed to be a one shot. After it turned into a second story, and then a third ... I should have changed majors to English. Then again, Computer Science does provide much better day jobs for aspiring writers, and I'm not quitting my day job any time soon. I doubt I ever will.

This story was initially conceived with the idea of showing how the Dominion War affected a normal day on the Stargazer. Somehow it changed into something more important, and shaping of my characters. Writing the Marrissa Stories has always been a constant discovery of my characters. Characters do not spring like Athena, fully formed from the author's head. You discover them as you write and they demand the course.

Sometimes these demands prevent what you want to write. Not so with this story. Each page I wrote revealed something more about my characters, not so much of Marrissa, as she's always been the center of my series, (hence the title) but some other characters now hold their own much better.

I hope you all enjoy this offering, and I look forward to hearing your response.

Stephen Ratliff

November 22, 2003

**Prologue**

A wisp of smoke was already rising from one of the consoles at the rear of the Stargazer's Bridge. The early morning attack had woken everyone with the sirens of Red Alert. Captain Washington sat in the center seat, content for the moment to let her First Officer direct the battle.

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard stood beside the helm, her blond hair roughly corralled into a pony tail. "Wait for it, helm," the young girl was saying. "Just a little closer. Break hard to port, Now! Tactical, full spread!"

The Bridge surged with activity at Marrissa's command, as the Stargazer came under heavy fire. Washington could tell that the Stargazer was giving as good as it got, as a red-wing tipped Star Fleet Fighter flew across the main view screen.

Marrissa looked back at Captain Washington with a smile of success. Just as she started to return her look forward, a panel in the side of the helm sparked, and blew. It caught her on her forehead, knocking her out and causing a bloody wound. She fell to the floor

Washington stood as the corpsman that was stationed on the Bridge moved to attend Marrissa. "Helm, new course, one five mark two six, quarter impulse, engage," Washington ordered, as the corpsman applied a quick patch on the wounded First Officer. "Tactical, firing pattern Sigma."

"Aye, sir," Tactical responded. Washington could hear his hesitancy. "They're coming back around." The corpsman was carrying Marrissa into the Turbolift.

"Helm, course six five mark four five, full impulse!" Washington ordered as the Jem'Hadar Attack Ships moved in again with kamikaze-like intent. They missed full impact, but one skipped off the Stargazer's shields, and the Captain's console exploded.

The Captain of the Stargazer laid injured in the smoke-filled bridge. Her left side was bloodied, from waist to the top of her head. She floated between consciousness and nothingness, with each wisp of smoke that passed through her field of vision. Command had just devolved to Lieutenant Jay Gordon for the first time in battle.

"Helm, 20 degrees to port," Jay said. "Ensign Mazer take over Fighter Command. Tactical, fire phasers and torpedoes at the target designated Sigma 3. Mazer, order Blue Wing to make a close pass on Sigma 2. I want that ship's attention directed elsewhere. Sickbay, the Captain's down and needs medical attention immediately. Helm, hard about now!"

The ship shook under the injured Captain. She really should talk to Lieutenant Szustakowski about those the ventral starboard thrusters and inertial dampers. The ship really shouldn't jerk like that during turns. Her vision blurred into darkness, but she could still hear Lieutenant Gordon in command.

"Mazer, where is Blue Wing?" Jay said. "Tactical, some supporting fire for Red Wing. Tell Green Wing to loosen that formation a little. Helm, set a course for the gas giant. Full impulse. It's time to put more obstacles in those Jem'Hadars' ways."

Captain T'Gwen Washington's world went silent, leaving her with only the scent of fried circuits and soon even that smell disappeared.

**Chapter One**

The first sense to return was smell, an antiseptic one. Then Captain Washington became aware of a soft beeping, that of the monitors in Sickbay. Her eyes opened to the well-lit ward, instead of the dim red lights of battle. She looked over to her side, experience teaching her that trying to sit up right away tended to make Chief Medical Officers quite irritable. Her First Officer was next to her. Marrissa was laying on her side, looking at a PADD. Marrissa's forehead was red, and a bit of dried blood still could be seen along her blond hairline.

"How is the ship, Commander?" Washington asked with a slight rasp. The battle must have been if not won, fought to a draw until retreat was possible.

"We need some repairs to the bridge, and that starboard secondary shield generator is beyond repair," Marrissa said. "You'll have to ask Doctor Johnson about the injuries and casualty report. I'm afraid to inquire."

"I see the Captain is up," Doctor Johnson said, entering the room. His short blond straw like hair was messed, looking so much like someone had pitched a bale of hay onto his head, and he hadn't straitened it up afterward. He was not wearing in scrubs, which Washington took as a good sign as to the status of her crew. "And this time she's not trying to sit up. Will wonders never cease?"

"Doctor, I am well acquainted with your insistence on flat immobility of your patients until such time as you decide they can do otherwise," Washington said, as Johnson moved in to scan her.

"Pardon me, madam, but your last five stays in my territory tell me otherwise" Johnson said, putting his medical tricorder away. "You'll no doubt be happy to know that you should recover from your injuries completely and be back on duty by mid afternoon tomorrow."

"Doctor, I am Vulcan, I do not become happy," Washington said. "Though a sooner and more precise time as to my exit from your domain might lead me to investigate the process of becoming happy."

"You'll leave when I say you can and not a moment sooner," Johnson said. "If you were to suddenly develop visible emotions, the causality report might be a good place to start. We have twenty-four people injured, including four pilots. There were two fatalities, Ensign Talmage in Engineering, and Ensign Sebik of Green Wing."

"Then it would be advisable for me to review their service records so I may make the proper final communication to their surviving families," Washington said. "Would you allow me to sit up, as such a posture does tend to make the review and composition of such letters proceed at a faster rate?"

"Go ahead," Johnson said. "Just don't come running to me when your head starts swimming."

"I would hope, Doctor, that my head would at least wait to go swimming at such a time as the rest of my body is ready to," Washington said. She found the Doctor's habit of using us such expressions somewhat annoying during her recoveries in Sickbay. The literal interpretation of such comments remained her only defense, during such periods of recovery, unfortunately.

Johnson left the room, muttering something about Vulcan machines. Once he was gone, the corners of Washington's mouth rose into a smile. "You really should stop baiting the Doctor," Marrissa said from where she lounged, idly tousling her hair.

"Perhaps," Washington acknowledged. "I am beginning to wonder about the doctor's continued obliviousness to amusement. Perhaps my emotional control is too tight."

"Nah, the Doctor hasn't learnt to look in your eyes yet," Marrissa said.

"Commander, you keep telling me that my eyes keep giving me away, but I am unable to verify your observation," Washington said.

"I believe some people say that the eyes are windows into the soul," Marrissa said.

"Vulcans do not believe in religious concepts, however if by soul you mean katra, no such signs have been detected in the eyes of katra bearers," Washington said.

"Don't go mentioning that you don't believe in the existence of the soul around the Doctor," Marrissa said. "He might start adding 'soulless' to the demon title he already calls you."

"I do hope he drops that some day," Washington said.

"You have only yourself to blame, Captain," Marrissa replied, jumping off her bed. "After all, you did describe your ears as 'demonic.' How you managed to say that in such a monotone, I'll never be able to figure out. You knew he'd pick up on it."

"It took much practice," Washington said. "I assume that the Doctor has already given you leave to exit Sickbay."

"Yes, I've already served my extra eight hours of observation," Marrissa said. "With your leave, Captain, I'll go relieve Jay."

"It seems that I'm getting eighteen extra. Please send the Lieutenant down here after you've taken command," Washington said. "His report on the battle will no doubt help me pass the time under the Doctor's care. Dismissed."

Washington watched as Marrissa skipped out of sickbay. Marrissa's youthful exuberance was so refreshing, at times. Pushing the thought out of her mind, Washington began bringing up the records she'd need to compose those letters.

Marrissa found Jay in the Fighter Maintenance Bay, after her shower. The remains of four fighters were spread across the rear of the bay, and Jay and Chief Quimby were looking over it. Jay's uniform sported a burn mark on the left shoulder, but otherwise he seemed okay.

"Chief, do you really think you can put two fighters together from these remains?" Jay asked. It looked like Jay was okay, but that burn mark on the uniform worried Marrissa.

"Yes, sir," Quimby said. Quimby, like most of the Engineering Staff on the Stargazer had been chosen by Admiral Scott. He was a somewhat stout man, with a brown handlebar mustache. He also was the best small craft Engineer in the fleet, in Marrissa's opinion. "Good Evening, Marrissa."

"Evening, Chief," Marrissa said. "Of course the Chief can, Jay. The question is, will any of us want to fly it?" She moved in to get a closer look at the burn mark.

"We'll tell them that the Chief built it, and there won't be a problem, Marrissa," Jay said. "Chief, I'll leave you to fix this. I believe our fearless first officer wants a word. And no, Marrissa, the burn is just on my uniform jacket."

"And you haven't taken time to change since the battle was over hours ago," Marrissa said rolling her eyes. "And you call me a work-a-holic. Well, I'm back on duty so you can change, and then give a personal account of the battle to our Captain in Sickbay."

"How long is the Doc going to keep our Captain confined in Sickbay this time?" Jay asked as they walked out of the bay.

"Sixteen more hours," Marrissa said, letting Jay place his arm around her waist briefly, before pushing him away. "Shower first, Jay. Our Captain plans to play logical Vulcan Patient to the extreme again."

"What is it with the Captain and baiting the Doc?" Jay asked, slowing down his stride a bit to match Marrissa's. "I figured out that she set up getting him to call her demonic, but I've never figured out why."

"The Captain believes that a proper Southern Doctor should have a logical Vulcan bedeviling him," Marrissa said, smiling. "I think it's fun to watch."

"Yes, but I do want a sane Doctor, so I'll stop by Sickbay after my shower," Jay said. "Should I expect you for dinner tonight?"

"Of course," Marrissa said, turning down a corridor off Jay's path "My replicator still isn't working. And I know, if you'd know that would get you a date, you would have disabled it a long time ago."

They parted ways at the next corridor junction. Marrissa headed back up to the bridge, wondering about what Jay would provide for dinner, and pondering requesting that Virginia delay fixing her replicator again.

"Red Alert." The announcement from Captain Berganmister Portinmire's First Officer had been coming way too often in the past week. It had only been twenty hours since the acting commander of the Stargazer Squadron had last heard the announcement. He stroked his short salt and pepper beard, as Commander Luciani continued with the announcement of the latest set of attackers. "Two Galor Class Cardassian Warships, and three Jem'Hadar Attack Ships."

Portinmire was in command of this squadron due to seniority. There were exactly nine captains in Star Fleet with more seniority than him the last time he checked. A commodore was supposed to be assigned to it, but unfortunately, Commodore Renaldo Cervantes had been killed in route. No replacement had been assigned yet.

"Match up our Light Cruisers to the Attack Ships," Portinmire ordered. He remained seated in his command chair, his posture straight and unbending, yet not stiff. "Ask the Stargazer to detail a wing of fighters per Attack Ship. Assign the remaining Light Cruiser, the Dagger if possible, the Sacagawea, and the Crocket to the second Galor Class. We'll take the first. Stargazer to guard the convoy as usual."

Portinmire believed that of all the ships in his squadron, it was the Stargazer's Command Staff that lacked the most depth. In a war, that was very important. Captain Washington was a passable Captain, who was still improving. However her First and Second Officers were both teenagers. That summed up his concern with depth right there. And right now, Captain Washington was on the injured list.

"Stargazer has launched Green, Blue, and Yellow Wings," his Chief of Security, Lieutenant Commander Pinot announced with his typical dry Vulcan tone. "Intercept time to attacking forces is now two minutes."

Portinmire did have to acknowledge that the Fighter Forces from the Stargazer were a force to be reckoned with. The many skirmishes that the convoy had gotten into on the way to Starbase 375 had proven that. The loss total on fighter craft was still in single digits, yet their solo kill total was almost at two dozen, and their number of assists were approaching triple digits. The Indefatigable had even been saved from a suicide run by a Jem'Hadar by Yellow Wing's timely arrival.

"Forces open fire on my mark," Portinmire ordered. Timing was critical on the first fire of a battle. Too early, and you wasted most of your torpedoes. Too late, and you might not have those torpedoes to fire. "Now!"

The first barrage of torpedoes was as usual, timed perfectly, in Portinmire's opinion. He could count on it being the only fire of the day that every single shot hit its target. Portinmire didn't have time to admire it. The Indefatigable was already evading the enemy's incoming fire. Portinmire didn't have time to manage all of his ship's maneuvers and the squadron as well, but Commander Luciani was already taking care of the Indefatigable.

Portinmire's attention turned to that of his Light Cruiser squadron. The Stargazer had adroitly assigned Yellow Wing to match up with the Wakizashi. The tactical weaknesses of Captain Davista would be hopefully covered by what Portinmire was coming to believe was the best wing to have assisting a starship in battle.

The first of the Galor Class Cardassian Warships began to break up on the main screen. Portinmire knew that Luciani had drilled attacking that class of warship down to an art form. It no longer was an attack by numbers, jerking from weakness to weakness, but a smooth continuous fire, not a single bit wasted on the artist's smock, or as often was the case with Luciani, his dress whites.

Portinmire shifted over the battle field, looking for weak spots to plug. "Helm, new course, one five mark nine five, full impulse," he ordered. "Tactical, fire as you bear on targets as we pass them, but reserve a ready full load of torpedoes for the Galor Class."

On the screen, the stars descended as the Indefatigable turned toward the Stargazer. The remaining Galor Class had escaped Dagger and the Intrepid Class Starships, and now was pounding on the Stargazer's aft quarter. Another wing of fighter craft was streaking from their position above the convoy to come to the Stargazer's rescue as well. Their black wing tips identified them as Dukat's Black Wing, which had the most Cardassian kills of the wings of the Stargazer.

Portinmire watched as his ship closed. The Stargazer was one ship he couldn't afford to loose over all others in his squadron. "The Bodkin reports clear of opposition," his tactical officer announced. Two targets down. "The Dirk reports clear of opposition." Three. Neither of the two were in position to help the Stargazer. His ship opened fire on the Cardassian.

Artistry was abandoned for brute-force fire. The Stargazer had flipped to face backwards and launched another wing as the Indefatigable blasted in from the Cardassian's starboard aft quarter. The explosion started on their starboard wing, and then appeared on their warp fork before it spread to engulf and destroy the entire ship. No announcement was made of the destruction. There was no need.

"The Wakizashi reports free of opposition," Pinot announced. "All enemy forced have been destroyed."

Portinmire stood, and ordered, "Secure from Battle Stations. Go to Yellow Alert for the next half hour." He surveyed his bridge. Everything seemed to be in place, with no more damage than before.

"Open a channel to the Stargazer," he ordered.

On screen a bridge appeared with just a few wisps of smoke. Seated in the center seat was a young blond girl who Portinmire was seeing way too much of. "Stargazer, Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard in command at the moment. What can I do for you Captain?"

"Status, Lieutenant Commander?" Portinmire said. He would have preferred dealing with Captain Washington. "I saw you taking some rather big hits towards the end."

"Yes, sir," the young girl said. "Lieutenant Szustakowski reports that we've lost one of the aft shield generators. Fortunately we have a replacement on board, but it will take eight to twelve hours to install. No fighter casualties this time. I'm still waiting for Doctor Johnson on the rest of the ship."

"Have him CC the Indefatigable with that," Portinmire said. "The Stargazer will take point immediately. No sense letting the weak side show. I will talk to Captain Washington when she returns to duty. Indefatigable out."

The door to the Command Officers' Office closed behind Jay. Marrissa stood next the window, looking out at the Dagger. Her face was drawn with frustration, jaw jutted out and eyebrows pulled together. She blew out a deep breath, causing her teased bangs to flutter.

"So, Portinmire has got to you," Jay said. It wasn't the first time he'd seen Marrissa like this after a conversation with Portinmire. The acting-Squadron Commander just seemed to rub Marrissa wrong, and it was taking less unknowing provocation on Portinmire's part as time passed to make Marrissa react.

"Oh it's not just him," Marrissa said. It seems that no one believes I deserve my post. I know I'm the youngest ever to reach the rank of Lieutenant Commander, and serve as First Officer on a starship, but I worked so hard and gave up so much to get this post."

"I know you did." Being in a fleet family, Jay had heard about a lot of officer's work habits, and since he became one himself, he'd seen even more. Marrissa's work habits had to rank among the top ten for effort.

"But all people see is the fact that I'm young, I haven't attended the Academy, and I started out serving under my own father," Marrissa said, beginning to pace. "It's not like he ever gave me a promotion, and Riker did all of my evaluations. And I worked hard as Chief of Security on the Enterprise. I put in eighteen and nineteen hour days getting that ship's Security in order. We won four Security Competitions under my command. I earned my post as Fighter Commander on this ship over two dozen other officers, and my father didn't even know I'd applied until I got it."

"I bet he was shocked when he found out," Jay said. Jay had to admit that he had been. He had expected Marrissa to work her way up on the Enterprise for the rest of her career. She really wanted that particular center seat, almost as much as Riker did.

"Oh he was," Marrissa said, stopping to look out the window again. "But, I still can't get any respect. You know that Admiral Jellico thought that the Captain was joking when she told him that she already had a qualified person filling the post of First Officer after the Cardassians left? He actually thought a Vulcan was joking! It took her weeks to convince Personnel that she needed Fighter Commander candidates, not First Officer candidates."

Jay moved behind Marrissa, and hugged her. He received an elbow to his belly for that. "You seem to have the respect of most of the crew of the Stargazer," he said. He knew there were some who didn't like Marrissa, but since she was First Officer, hid their dislike. During the war so far, her hard work had won over a lot of the Stargazer's crew. The Fighter Command Staff was hers from the beginning, of course.

"Yes, but they work with me daily, and they're under my command," Marrissa said, accepting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "None of the Captains and First Officers of this fleet give me an ounce of respect."

"So you'll just have to arrange to pull their bacon out of the fire," Jay said. Marrissa had done it before. Jay knew it wasn't something she looked for, though.

"I'm sure they have grandchildren my age. It's hopeless," Marrissa said.

"No, if it was hopeless, you would have been reassigned to be first officer on an ore transport," Jay said, turning Marrissa to face him.

"Jay, there are no ore transports in Star Fleet," Marrissa said, slowly.

"I know that," Jay said with a smile. "Cheer up, Marrissa. You've accomplished more in the last four years than some people do in a life time. I'm sure that you'll eventually bring everyone around."

"Yes, maybe after I'm twenty," Marrissa said, flatly. Then her voice took on emotion, as she continued. " I need more experience. People think I got where I am too easily. That's why I have to work hard. I have to prove that I didn't get here by some whim of fate. I need to be ready for all the challenges, have all the knowledge, they expect of an officer."

Jay could see where this was headed. Marrissa was the girl who was told that she couldn't ride horses like a real jockey, and then ended up winning the Belmont stakes. She took up sword fighting when she was told that girls didn't do it. Her game of Parisees Squares with Worf had been a legend before he left the Enterprise-D. He couldn't forget her paper that got published in the Vulcan Science Academy Journal. Every time she'd been told she couldn't do something she would buckle down, and work on it until she could do it, usually exhausting herself in the process.

Nothing stopped a determined Marrissa. Captain doesn't let kids on the bridge? Ask him to be your mentor, get adopted by him, and she was not only on the bridge, but at the helm. Jay was sure Marrissa would have her own command one day, if she didn't break down from overwork first.

"You're an exceptional person to anyone who can look objectively, Marrissa," he said. "You don't need to exhaust yourself prove it to those who can't."

"Only Vulcans live outside of subjective reality," Marrissa replied. "And there is some debate about that."

"Oh no, scientific philosophy," Jay said, pretending to cringe. Marrissa smiled. Jay's stomach rumbled.

"I think it's dinner time," Marrissa said.

"You're right," Jay said. "My quarters?" Marrissa nodded. "No work on the post action report until after desert though."

"If it's cheesecake, you have a deal," Marrissa said.

Jay smiled, as he followed Marrissa out of the offices. With a little work, he was sure that Marrissa would be back in that good mood and hopefully not drowning herself in work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Ensign Troy McGeorge was in Sickbay due to a severe burn on his right side, a broken leg, and a deviated septum. Captain Washington knew this because she'd just finished reading the casualty and injury report. Furthermore, Lieutenant Gordon's report revealed that the injuries had occurred when McGeorge's fighter had been hit with a glancing blow from a Jem'Hadar torpedo. The fighter was a total loss, despite the fact that McGeorge had managed to return it to the Stargazer. Judging from the Ensign's current behavior, McGeorge wasn't in Sickbay to have his injuries tended. He was there to flirt with Nurse Lopez.

Captain T'Gwen Washington was half Vulcan. As such, she wasn't prone to showing much emotion, and emotional outbursts from her were almost unheard of. Annoyance, however, was one emotion which Vulcans were masters of showing in subtle ways. Normally, it was a raised eyebrow, or perhaps tightly pressed together lips. Washington was also half human, and under medication. Vulcan subtlety, however had been worn bare by the last eight hours in Sickbay. "Mister McGeorge, Miss Lopez, please take your flirting behavior elsewhere," she ordered, sitting up straight, and wincing slightly due to the sudden pain in her head.

"I told you to lie down, Captain," Doctor Johnson said, as he entered the ward. "But of course you never listen to me. Ensign, you can leave Sickbay now. No fighter pilot duties for the next forty-eight hours. Report to Lieutenant Gordon for your new duties."

As Ensign McGeorge left the ward, the Doctor turned his attention to the Captain. His steady gaze was some what unnerving. "I told you not to sit up straight, or fast," he said.

"I believe I recall such instructions," Washington said.

"Good, that means you memory is okay," Johnson said. "Now we just have to work following those instructions. Has anyone brought your dinner yet?"

"Not yet, Doctor," Washington said. She was hoping she'd have a choice in the menu this time.

"Nurse Lopez! Get the Captain her green beans and grits," Johnson said. "I'd include the fried ham, but I believe she has some objection to perfectly good pig's ass."

Washington really had to get out of Sickbay soon. She hated grits. The green beans weren't bad, but the grits, she'd rather have the fried ham, and since she never had meat (with the exception of her secret vice, turkey) that said quite a bit. Still, it wasn't wise to go against the Doctor's orders.

"I want you to get some rest after dinner, Captain. And no more reading intelligence briefings. That small print is not helping your recovery. Nurse! Where are those grits?"

...

The center seat of the Stargazer was physically comfortable, that was one thing that Marrissa could say about it. After all, a captain did not need the additional distraction of an uncomfortable chair to add to their troubled day. Since Captain Washington was relieved of her duties pending her exit from Sickbay, Marrissa was basically getting all the troubles that normally came a captain's way. Usually, Marrissa only spent brief times in command, and didn't have to deal with the paperwork and other annoyances that came the way of the Captain. Today, she was unlucky enough to be Acting-Captain during a lull in the battles, and it seemed that the recent fights had made the Stargazer behind in its paperwork.

"Please tell me that that's the last of them?" Marrissa said as she signed the ninth report she'd read that day and handed it to the Captain's yeoman.

"Sorry, sir, but we'll have another four or five of them ready by the end of the shift," the yeoman replied, before turning and exiting.

"Marrissa, Captain Portinmire is hailing us," Ops interrupted.

"On screen," Marrissa ordered, standing up. She'd discovered that if she was seated the viewer didn't see her in isolation mode, which it was currently stuck in.

The stern vestige of Captain Berganmister Portinmire appeared on the screen. Marrissa reached down to adjust the zipper that kept her uniform jacket up. It had a zipper problem, opening up more as the day progressed, and something about Portinmire made her want to have perfect deportment when he called.

"I see you're still in command," Portinmire began. "That explains why your ship is out of formation."

"No, we are not, sir," Marrissa replied. "I asked your first officer for permission to drop back a little during our impulse engine flush. You were unavailable at the time."

"I understand," Portinmire said. "When will you be able to return to your former position?"

"Our Chief Engineer informs me that she'll be bringing the main impulse engines back on line in two minutes," Marrissa said. "In addition, our shield generator problem has been fixed."

"In two minutes I want you to take the Indefatigable's position at point," Portinmire replied. "And Commander, don't contradict me again. Indefatigable out."

...

The sign on the door read "Lieutenant Jay Gordon, Second Officer, Fighter Commander." Behind it were the quarters of the youngest member of the crew of the Stargazer. It was a room that could be best described as Spartan. Standard issue bed, desk, and two chairs. No paintings. The only nonstandard items in the room were two small photos on the desk, one of his family, and the other of Marrissa, and a Vulcan lute.

The lute was a recent addition. Oh, Jay could play it rather well, but until he had transferred to the Stargazer he had been using his father's lute. At the moment, Jay was practicing. Sitok's Minuet in E was a classic for the Vulcan lute, but it wasn't an easy piece. Jay had only just started to learn it, and it showed. The current passage was perhaps the best mastered section he had, with its delicate trills being a common element of Sitok's work, of which Jay played a lot, in private.

On the Stargazer, only the Captain and Marrissa knew that Jay played the lute. Marrissa knew because he'd picked it up when they were both children on the Enterprise-D, not that they were much older now. The Captain was his current teacher. T'Gwen Washington had gone to a school for the performing arts before she went to the Academy. This had surprised Jay when he had found out. After all, the Captain came from a Science Vessel, and had spent most of her career in a field know for logic, not creativity.

Captain Washington preferred the more recent human composers for the Vulcan lute. It was one area that Jay disagreed with. There was a reason it was called Classical Music, Jay thought. That meant it had to be a classic, and to Jay, that meant that time had to pass. Nothing became a classic overnight. Though the Captain's fondness for Earth Country Music transcribed for the lute was changing Jay's definition of the Classical sound.

The Vulcan lute was a soft instrument. Playing it was a calming act, on that Jay often needed. For instance, today he had to deal with: a fighter pilot that refused to believe that he was too injured to go back to active flight duty, a chronic shortage of a needed part for his fighter's control systems (fortunately solved) and to top it off, Marrissa was doubting her ability again.

Most of the people who knew Marrissa would never believe that Marrissa ever doubted herself. Marrissa had them fooled. Jay knew differently. He'd often been Marrissa's sounding board. Doubt was a more consistent trait to Marrissa that the supreme confidence that most assumed was her primary trait, apart from incredible luck. The teenage girl often needed reassurance, and Jay wished he'd been able to give it more often, but he wasn't in the position she needed it from. Today she had suffered a real bad setback with the Squadron Captain. The guy was, in Jay's opinion, a pompous jerk. He could not ever find a way to compliment anyone, and the first and second officers of the Stargazer were not on his most favored officer's list.

The chime of the door interrupted and ruined what would have been Jay's first perfect run through the difficult trilling section he'd been working on. He quickly placed his lute on his desk, and called out, "Enter."

The Captain of the Stargazer entered. "I hope I'm not intruding, Jay," she said.

"Apart from the practicing that I'm getting no where on, you aren't, sir," Jay replied as the Captain took a seat in the other chair. "What brings you down to Deck Six?"

"I just ran into Marrissa, and it looked like she'd been crying," Washington said. "I wondered if you might know why."

"Probably Captain Portinmire again," Jay said, after a moment's thought.

"What about Captain Portinmire?" Washington asked, puzzled.

"He has only been saying criticism to her, a good part of which, I believe she doesn't deserve," Jay said. "And he even turns what would normally be the compliments she needs into scathing comments against her."

"Compliments she needs?" Washington questioned.

"Marrissa lives on compliments," Jay said. "It's what keeps her from giving into her natural insecurity."

"Jay, I find it hard to believe that Marrissa is insecure," Washington said.

"She hides it," Jay said. "But it's still there. Ever notice how she introduces herself to people she doesn't know? She lists all of her titles, insisting on her importance."

"It's hard not to," Washington said.

"Marrissa wants to be someone special, someone everyone wants to be friends with," Jay said. "She doesn't want to be alone, but she is so much of the time. Her parents are dead and most of her friends are out of touch. And here on the Stargazer her rank and position isolate her. Then when she does somehow gets leave, she has to dodge half the tabloid press because of her royal rank."

"I could see how that would isolate someone," Washington replied. "What can we do about it?"

"I'm doing what I can," Jay said. "I make sure she doesn't eat alone, and I'm there when she wants someone to listen, but I can't do much more. You've helped a lot by having that afternoon tea with her to 'discuss ship's business,' but I think there is one more thing you could do."

"Name it, and I'll try," Washington said. "I don't want my First Officer to fall into deep depression."

"She needs someone to boost her faith in her abilities," Jay replied. "Someone off the ship that has some power she can respect."

...

Captain Portinmire had not expected a call from Captain Washington. He certainly hadn't expected Washington to ask for help with an officer which he knew she relied on. "It's nothing personal, Captain, but I just don't know your first officer," Portinmire said. "I understand she's a genius of some type." Lieutenant Commander at fifteen either indicated that or nepotism in high places. After her last time commanding the Stargazer he knew that she at least wasn't a blithering idiot "I may be a little gruff with her, but I'm like that with all my junior officers."

"Perhaps, but I need someone to take Marrissa under their wing," Washington replied. He thought he could detect a tone of concern in the half-Vulcan's voice. I can't because the roles between us are already well defined away from that kind of relationship."

Portinmire expected otherwise, but then again, Washington had come to command the Stargazer though an unusual path to command a front line warship. "Captain, I understand that Lieutenant Gordon is new to your command and has many of the same talents," Portinmire said after a minute's silence. The suggestion concerned him a little, but he gave it anyway. "Could he provide the tactical instincts you say you're lacking in Commander Picard's absence?"

"I believe so, sir," Washington replied. "He's proven his instincts during mine and Marrissa's recent injuries."

The Stargazer had handled rather well during the battle that had ended on the young Lieutenant's command, Portinmire reluctantly admitted to himself. He also had to admit that he'd wanted to see Lieutenant Commander Picard under a closer view. Of all the First Officers in the squadron, he knew the least about her beyond the service jacket. Perhaps a short term assignment on the Indefatigable would solve that. He even had one available in just a few hours. He'd been planning to give it to one of the Indefatigable's Lieutenants, but perhaps an exchange of problem children would be better for all concerned.

"Good," Portinmire said. "Have Commander Picard report on board the Indefatigable at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow for a temporary assignment of about three days. I'll be assigning you a Lieutenant to temporarily fill her shoes, but as second, not first officer. You'll need to tutor Lieutenant Pizarro in carrier tactics. And if you can get him to relax a little, I'd be obliged. He's become a menace to my Ensigns."

Pizarro currently in charge of the Command Track Ensigns just assigned to the Indefatigable as their Training Officer. He was a fairly good officer, but he was running them just a little hard. In his and Commander Luciani's opinion, it was good for the Ensigns, but not good for the Lieutenant. Unrelenting and unforgiving commanders rarely survived to make Captain, and Portinmire thought he had the talents to make it.

"I will make my best attempt, sir," Washington said. "When can I expect Lieutenant Pizarro?"

"1100 hours," Portinmire replied. "Have Commander Picard brief him before she reports in. He'll know that it's temporary, but she may need to enforce the fact on him, as you might. I'll leave you to prepare your command. Indefatigable out."

As Captain Washington's picture winked out, Portinmire brought to his mind the possible candidates to fill Pizarro's Training Officer post while he was gone. It was either Harkeness or Donner. Perhaps the gruff Lieutenant Harkeness would do the job. Harkeness was a firm Lieutenant, whose sudden stops with his bulk had been know to tear the carpet. Donner didn't seem to quite have as much a grasp on his duties and responsibilities. It would have to be Harkeness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Captain Berganmister Portinmire was the Commanding Officer of the Stargazer Squadron, as well as the Commanding Officer of the USS Indefatigable, an Excelsior Class starship. Squadrons were normally named after their principle ship. Generally that ship's Captain was the Commanding Officer of the squadron, but Washington didn't have much seniority, and by her own admission did not have the knowledge or tactical ability to lead such a diverse group of ships. Portinmire was a old warhorse Captain who had served in the Second and Third Federation-Cardassian War, as well as the recently completed Ninth Klingon-Federation War. It showed in his hard lined face, and pure white hair.

The room that Marrissa had been summoned to meet the Captain was a reflection of his hard personality. With clean blue-gray walls, a picture of General Robert E. Lee astride his horse behind the desk, which had a stack of PADDs inside an old-fashioned metal in and out trays. It simply screamed traditional military of one of the oldest types.

"Lieutenant Commander Marrissa A. Picard reporting as ordered, sir," Marrissa announced, as the door slid closed behind her.

"Sit, Lieutenant Commander," Portinmire ordered, gesturing to a solid metal chair in front of his desk. Marrissa took a seat in the hard chair. "I'm placing you on a temporary detached assignment away from the Stargazer. You'll be escorting a visitor from the Romulan Navy, a Sub-commander Saavik 'cha Praetorium for the next three days. Any questions?"

"May I ask why I was picked for this particular assignment?" Marrissa asked.

"You were the best person for the job," Portinmire replied. "Sub-commander Saavik arrives in an hour. I expect that you'll be there in dress whites to greet her."

"Understood, sir."

"And one other thing, Lieutenant," Portinmire said. "Sub-commander Saavik is not the sole reason that I've called you here. Your battle station while on board the Indefatigable is the bridge, opposite my First Officer. I want you two to work together to improve our tactics. Commander Liciani is beginning to get a little predictable."

"Aye sir," Marrissa said.

"Dismissed." Portinmire returned to his work. The acting Squadron Commander job was really beginning to pile the paperwork on his desk.

...

Marrissa arrived at her temporary quarters to discover that her dress uniform was already laid out for her. The quarters on the Excelsior Class starship Indefatigable were bigger than her two room office quarters combo on the Stargazer, done in the white and silver that were in favor when the class was designed.

She stopped briefly to look out her new window, through which she could see the Stargazer. Her ship of record sported several scorch marks on what was once a pristine blue gray hull. No fighters were issuing from her forward facing fighter bay at the moment, but from experience she knew that could change quickly.

Her eyes caught her dress whites on top the silver and red spread on her bed. Showing around another officer from another star fleet ... her career had hit a new low. She hadn't had that duty since she was a newly commissioned Ensign on the old Enterprise. Of course, no one liked being lead around by a preteen, so she'd quickly been relieved of that job. At the time she'd been a little angry that she'd been taken off that assignment, and wanted it back. Now she knew better, and was about to get it again. She flung down her communicator as she began to undress so she could put on her dress whites.

At least this time it was a military ally instead of a grumpy old ambassador. That guy had been a real bore, to tell the truth. She'd need to get some briefing on this Sub-Commander Saavick Praetorium. She thought that Saavik was a female name. As for the last name of Praetorium, she wondered if that meant that this Sub-Commander was related to the Romulan Praetor somehow.

Her duty uniform off, Marrissa folded it before she turned to put on the dress whites. She was a Star Fleet Officer, she could handle anything. Steeling herself, she picked up the uniform pants, black, with the gold strip. She didn't need praise. With force, her left leg entered her pants. She didn't need thanks. The right leg went on. She didn't need friends. Up and fasten. She didn't need help. Uniform jacket, left arm in. She didn't need to be liked. Right arm in, and where is that zipper? She didn't need a place where she could shine. Zippered up, communicator on.

Who was she kidding? She needed praise, thanks, friends, to be liked, and a place where she could shine. Here on the Indefatigable she had none of those. Marrissa slumped down against the foot of her bed, and began to cry.

...

"Lieutenant Pizarro, do you know why you're here?" Captain T'Gwen Washington asked the Hispanic human as she looked down on his foot and a half shorter form. She was standing behind her desk, and he stood across from her. Jay stood by her ready room door, having just escorted Pizarro there.

"Captain Portinmire said he wanted me to become familiar with Carriers," Pizarro said.

"Yes, that is true, but your temporary posting here is not just for that," T'Gwen said, sitting down. "Please, be seated. You too, Jay."

Pizarro sat down across from Captain Washington, while Jay found a seat on the sofa on the Captain's right, just beyond the desk.

"Captain Portinmire runs a very tight ship," Washington said. "And you, following in the footsteps of your Captain run the Captaincy Candidates that you've been given responsibility for even harder. Perhaps too hard. That's why you're here. Jay?"

"Mr. Pizarro, you'll find that the Stargazer is run quite a bit looser than what you're used to," Jay said. "You're not here to change that, you're here to learn how that works. The Stargazer is a large extended family. It is not uncommon for people to greet each other by their first name. Our regular First Officer, in fact insists that everyone call her just Marrissa. I likewise insist that my pilots call me Jay. Lieutenant Gordon was what I heard my father called, until recently. The Captain is perhaps the only one who isn't called by someone by her first name, but she's the matriarch, if you continue the comparison, of the family."

"For the duration of your assignment, you will be serving as Second Officer of the Stargazer," T'Gwen said. "You will study with Jay, who has been bumped up to First, the fine art of recent fighter tactics, and learn how another command style works. If you're lucky, we might even have time to put you in as part of one of our Command Wing fighter squadron in Jay's persistent innovation tests. Jay, who is ahead to challenge the Command Wing at the moment?"

"Tie between Red and Black Wings at the moment, sir," Jay said. "Dukat has really turned that wing around."

"Oh, yes, that brings up another point," T'Gwen said. "No harassing Lieutenant Dukat. We know he's a Cardassian, and we know who his father is. It is not your concern. I shouldn't have had to say that, but experience has taught me that such a warning is most unfortunately a necessary one. Any questions, Lieutenant?"

"No sir," Pizarro said.

"Very well, Lieutenant," T'Gwen said, standing. "Once again, welcome to the Stargazer. Jay will show you to your room."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Marrissa arrived to meet Subcommander Saavik late, with tear-stained eyes. To be honest, it wasn't entirely her fault. Saavik was early. Even if her ETA had been updated, Marrissa would have had only three minutes to change once she'd received her assignment. Those facts, however, did not matter. She was late, and to be perfectly honest, she was not looking her best. Oh, the uniform was perfect in every fashion, rank pips lined up, communicator perfectly straight, and seams lined up. Her hair was unusually loose, and slightly messed up at that, and of course, she had been crying.

"Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, reporting as ordered, sir," Marrissa said, standing in front of Captain Portinmire.

"Miss. Picard, your deportment leaves much to be desired," Portinmire said, using the black baton that he habitually carried to prod her into a proper attention stance.

"Sorry, sir," Marrissa said, nearly resuming her tears.

"And wash your face before report next time, unless we're going into battle," Portinmire admonished, before turning to address the Romulan behind him. "Sub Commander Saavick, this is Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard, she'll be your liaison officer while you're with the squadron. Please pardon her lack of briefing as to your needs. I just decided on her five minutes ago. She's usually the Stargazer's First Officer, so you'll find her a well of knowledge on fighter operations and the like."

"That is precisely the area of which I know the least about Federation Operations," Saavik said. She was studying the tear-stained face, as she frowned. "Tell me, Commander, why is there so little information on the subject?"

"Star Fleet hasn't had carrier forces much of this century," Marrissa replied, becoming more animated and relaxed as she talked. "Before that all use of fighters were confined to system defense. The Stargazer and her four operational counterparts, Hathaway, Victory, Magellan, and Gettysburg, aren't really true carriers at that, being refits of frigates. The Stargazer is the first to go operational as a carrier just 21 months ago."

"So then the lack of information is really just lack of carrier experience," Saavik surmised, raising her right eyebrow. "Perhaps a fatal flaw."

"I'll leave you two to discuss things, then," Portinmire said, before departing the room, almost unnoticed by the two young officers.

"That and lack of time to write up them, lately," Marrissa said. "Jay, the fighter commander on the Stargazer, has quite a back log of unfinished ones that he's been interrupted by red alert as he was writing them up. I've been trying to help him a little."

"Surely there are not many differences between starship and fighter tactics," Saavik said, taking a seat at a near by table.

Marrissa took a seat next to Saavik, and began explaining, her hands illustrating her points. "Some areas, no. There are several areas of fighter tactics. Deployment of the Fighters is something that's expanding rapidly, tactics wise. The design of the ship effects that quite a bit."

"How so?" Saavik asked.

"The Stargazer has a forward facing bay. This is good for deploying a screen of fighters in front of the ship, and creating a sudden punch of additional firepower. Even without launching the fighters, we've used the phaser and torpedoes on the fighters … though I do not recommend the torpedoes use that way. We have a bay on our underside that's ideal for rearmament of torpedoes, as you can fly right through it. It's a little small though, so deployments of fresh wings aren't feasible. If we had a rear facing bay, or an underside drop bay, we'd be able to function with quick drop deployments and depart. However, with the compliment of fifty fighters we have, drop deployments are seldom worth it."

Saavik leaned back in her seat and asked, "Fifty fighters sounds like a puny amount of fighters to station on a ship. Surely more could be assigned to a ship?"

"First, you have to remember that the four and five hundred fighters units are generally planetary or major Star Base based. We might be able to squeeze another wing or two, but two wings more really couldn't be done on a regular basis. There simply isn't enough room on a Stargazer Class Carrier." Marrissa reflected. "Of course, the Stargazer is a conversion to carrier, not a ship designed for the job. They're planning a new class of carrier starships at the moment. They hope to lay the keel on the first one sometime next year, depending on the war of course. Resources may end up being diverted."

"That's understandable, given the quick building practices during a war," Saavik replied.

"I won't be surprised if half of the ships in service when the Dominion War is over end up having to be refit," Marrissa said. "I consider myself lucky to be on a ship that got a full year in service to shake out the bugs before the war started."

The conversation when on for a couple hours, and Marrissa lost herself in the discussion. Somehow, both of them missed lunch.

...

Lieutenant Jay Gordon wasn't really ready to be First Officer, especially since he was also still Fighter Commander. The stack of PADDs that were accumulating in the Command Offices below the Bridge on his Desk were really getting out of hand. Still, there are only so many officer evaluations that one can read before having to take a break to rest your eyes if nothing else.

He paused for a moment, and looked around the room. The Command Offices on the Stargazer was a long room just past the Captain's Ready Room. It contained desks for the First and Second Officer, as well as the Chiefs of Security and Engineering, plus one empty desk. His was opposite Marrissa's. Marrissa didn't use hers often, preferring instead to use her own quarters, but it still held her character.

The desk was neat, everything placed where she could easily get to it. Her chair was a high backed one, which rested like someone was laying back in it. Jay could easily imagine Marrissa still seated in it, her feet resting on the edge of the desk as she laid back, paging through a PADD with one hand, and the other idly toying with her shoulder length blond hair.

The sound of a PADD clattering onto the desk shocked Jay out of his daydream. In what usually was the empty desk in the far corner of the room, Lieutenant Pizarro was going through his reports, and obviously not liking what he was reading.

"Problem Bertin?" Jay asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Pizarro said. "How in the world do you deal with such shortages? The Stargazer's critical part need list is way too long."

"You keep requesting and hope to God that Virginia can find something to do the same thing in the mean time," Jay said.

"How many times have you had to sign off on this particular request list?" Pizarro asked.

"Let's see, Fighter Stabilizer Lifts, EPS Conduit Junction Boxes, Five Cent Fuses and Class XI phaser power regulators, right?" Jay said, recalling the last one he'd seen.

"Yes."

"Five times, but I hear we're going to get the EPS Conduit Junction Boxes with the next supply ship," Jay said.

"I don't see how you can put up with delays like this," Pizarro said. "It's enough to drive me to drinking."

"Ha! If you think that report is bad, you should see the forms that I'm going through," Jay said. "Particularly form 8212."

"I've seen that one ... I feel for you sir," Pizarro said, tossing another PADD in his out tray.

"So far I haven't got any of them to come out near what Marrissa did, and you shouldn't have a twenty-two-point evaluation shift on anyone in a month's time," Jay said.

"Do you know if the Commander did a high level or detailed run through the form?" Pizarro asked. "It makes a real difference."

"I assumed detailed ... but now that I look at this, she may have done high level," Jay replied, paging through two PADDs at once. "Thanks Bertin."

"You're welcome, sir," Pizarro said picking up the next PADD at his desk. "What is a Tri-Colbalt Motivator Duotronic Circuit? And why is Fighter Maintenance requesting one?"

"It's the fuse for Tri-Colbalt Explosive Devices," Jay said. "Chief Quimby acquired one without the fuse, and is trying to adapt it to fit fighter ordinance." Jay tossed down another PADD. "Okay, I'm going to have to reassign something. This is simply too much."

"Sir?" Pizarro said, as Jay's gaze returned to him.

"Bertin, you minored in Engineering at the Academy, right?" Jay said, a serious expression instead of his boyish grin occupying his face.

"Yes, sir," Pizarro said, puzzlement having caused him to cock his head.

"When the War started, Marrissa reassigned Fighter Maintenance from Engineering to Fighter Command," Jay said. "It probably was a good idea, but with the First Officer's post, I can't do as much in my Fighter Commander post, so something has to be reassigned until Marrissa returns. You're here to learn how a Carrier works. We'll start that with Fighter Maintenance. Chief Quimby and his crew will report directly to you. I suggest you study the Fighter Specs, as well as the Modification File before you talk to him. He can be a little bit technical. I had to call in a translator the first time I dealt with him."

"I'll get right on it," Pizarro said, bringing up the Essex 10 class specs on his screen.

Jay gathered a group of PADDs, and stood up, walking over to Pizarro's desk. "Oh, and that means you get to deal with these 8212s. I'm ..."

The panel next to the door flashed yellow, then turned red, as an announcement came over the intercom. "Red Alert, all hands to battle stations. This is not a drill. Red Alert, all hands to battle stations." The PADDs dropped with a clatter, and Jay was out of the room before the second Red Alert was finished.

...

Captain Washington was not used to battle without her First Officer at her side. She relied on Marrissa's keen tactical timing. Her substitute First Officer, Jay was manning Fighter Command, and his attention was squarely with the fighters as Purple Wing left the Fighter Bay of the Stargazer, the sixth and final wing that would be deployed. He wasn't standing nearby as that comfortable presence.

She studied the tactical displays as a Jem'Hadar Attack Ship came around for pass. "Helm, 45 to starboard now," she ordered.

It was the wrong direction. The Stargazer turned into the Jem'Hadar's path, and a shower of sparks cascaded off the dorsal shields. On the bridge, the shields were echoed in the explosion of the Tactical Console. Lieutenant Ross Lochard was sent flying to the back of the Bridge, landing in a bloody mess of awkwardly bent limbs. The explosion sent debris towards Operations, impacting Lieutenant Sam Lavelle just above his fortunately shielded eyes.

Washington knew it was her fault, as she called, "Bridge to Sickbay, I have two men down."

"The Helm is not answering," Ensign McGeorge announced.

"I have helm and tactical control, Captain," Jay announced.

The Jem'Hadar had smelled blood and were now approaching the Stargazer. Her mentor Captain had called them the jackals of battle. With her confidence shaken, Washington had no idea what to do, so she passed it off to her First Officer. "Evasive, your choice, fire as you can, Lieutenant."

She picked up the medical kit from under the command chair and handed Lavelle a pressure bandage. He held it up against his fore head as Washington moved to check Lochard. The least she could do was render First Aid, while her more able First Officer handled the task for which he seemed to be born for.

...

Captain Portinmire had just received the Stargazer's post action report. Unusually, it was the last to arrive. It was one of those rare dependable things of his acting command of the squadron, the first report to arrive was almost always from the Stargazer. Never before had it been last. It didn't matter if it was Washington, Picard, or Gordon who commanded the battle, it arrived quickly, correctly, and usually in enlightening. Until this time.

He began to page through it. It wasn't the report he was used to from the Stargazer. There was an admitted mistake, one he'd witnessed from his own bridge. The Stargazer's command team admitted mistakes when they made them, but none had been like this. Those mistakes had not colored the whole report. They certainly hadn't led to any cascade of damage like the one which Captain Washington had taken personal responsibility for.

He frowned as he read off the damage report from just that impact when the ship had swerved, the only damage the ship had suffered. The forward dorsal shield generator was functioning at thirty percent. The port side dorsal tactical control run had totally blown and would have to be replaced. The Bridge Tactical Station exploded, requiring a full replacement. The bridge control system primary matrix would have to be switched out, though the Stargazer's Chief Engineer did think that it could be repaired to be used as a spare.

Then there was the causality and injury report. Once again, the Fighter Wings had escaped without fatality, it was truly amazing that their only injury this time was a broken thumb. However, the rest of the Stargazer's crew compliment wasn't as lucky. Two Engineers were dead from the tactical control run blowing while they were fixing equipment in the Jefferies Tubes. The Chief of Security was seriously injured with all of his limbs having been dislocated, and his arms broken. The Chief of Operations had been initially thought to have just suffered a bloody but superficial head wound, but was now in critical condition due to blood loss and a massive injury-induced stroke. Two members of the command team out in one attack.

Portinmire couldn't do much about that the situation. His acting position didn't grant him many powers. Even if he'd been inclined to relieve Captain Washington over the move, he couldn't. Portinmire wasn't so inclined. One bad order, one bad battle, didn't make a bad captain, and the Stargazer had been one of the better ships in his squadron. Despite Washington's contention, he was not going to credit that fact on its teenaged first and second officers. Such a contention was ludicrous no matter how you looked at it.

He went on to the Crocket's and the Sacagawea's reports. As expected, the Intrepid Class Starships had escaped without damage. Given their low firepower, the Jem'Hadar had ignored them, once again to their detriment. Portinmire believed that if they hadn't fired on anyone, none of the Jem'Hadar would have fired on them. He already knew the condition of his ship, so he passed over Commander Luciani's report, heading to his second division's reports.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Lieutenant Jay Gordon ate his lunch in the aft mess, not the officer's mess. The aft mess was filled with the noncoms on board, most of the time, with occasionally the Engineering Staff, due to it's closeness to the engines. It was something Captain Morris had suggested to him when he'd been a new ensign on the Independence. According to Captain Morris, learning from the noncoms, who where older and more experienced than him, was advisable.

When Jay had entered the aft mess the day he first arrived on the Stargazer as it's new Second Officer and Fighter Commander, he'd done so right after being Marrissa's sparing partner. He'd been royally trounced, of course. Practicing unarmed defense with Marrissa could easily result in being tossed around the room. After all, she'd learned from Worf. He'd showered, but hadn't put back on his uniform, instead arriving in his extra practice jumpsuit.

Everyone knew he was Marrissa's latest practice dummy. Apparently she'd been throwing around anyone near her weight class since she arrived. Several petty officers gave him sympathy. It had given him a way into the discussion, and he'd maintained several friendships with the noncoms since.

"Jay!" a burly man with a handlebar mustache said as Jay entered the room.

"Chief Quimby, may I hope the scones and tea were at least halfway good today?" Jay asked. He noticed that Quimby was still dressed in his dress whites, as usual.

"Of course not," Quimby replied. His fork pointed out the offending scones. "We're not in England, so the scones were terrible as usual. But the replicators are making passable veal today, if you'd care to try it."

"I think I'll stick to my usual ham sandwiches, thank you," as he punched the order. "How is Pizarro working out?"

Quimby punctuated each of his points by spearing a piece of his veal. "He's not you, and he's not Marrissa," Quimby replied. He chewed his veal swiftly.

"I could tell that, he can legally order a beer," Jay replied, sitting down with his ham sub.

"That's true," Quimby said, making his point with a wave of his fork. "He at least read the technical brief, and does seem to at least have acquired a smidgen of how to use a fighter."

"Do I hear a but coming on?" Jay asked, after Quimby consumed a rather large piece of veal. Quimby's opinion was important to Jay.

"You do," Quimby said. "But he tries to micro-manage too much, like Marrissa did at first. You can't do that to a repair unit. It tends to cause people to get in each other's way."

"He'll learn," Jay said. "At least I hope he will." Jay sighed before taking a large bite of his sub. He had two more days to do something with Pizarro.

"How's your girlfriend doing on the Indefatigable?" Quimby asked.

"Don't let Marrissa hear you call her that, she's in denial," Jay said, putting down the sub. Marrissa didn't seem to recognize how her friendship with Jay had deepened. Then again, it had been a gradual thing. Still, best friends didn't kiss each other good night, especially not on the lips. They generally didn't leave each other breathless afterwards either. "I haven't heard from her. I'm not sure that's a good or a bad thing. I intend to contact her after beta shift tonight."

"Send her Fighter Maintenance's regards and tell her that between battles we've actually managed to install that enhancement she wanted," Quimby said, draining the last of his tea.

"I will," Jay said, as Quimby stood.

"Well, I must head back to the trenches, chap," Quimby said, placing a friendly hand on Jay's shoulder as he walked by.

"Try not to work too hard," Jay said, as Quimby carried his dishes to the replicator. Jay took another bite of his ham sub. It was rather good today. Virginia must have finished the upgrade and repairs on the replicators. Hopefully not Marrissa's though. He'd asked her to put that repair at the end of the line.

...

Captain T'Gwen Washington made a habit of regularly walking through every part of her ship. She had even at times clamored through the Jefferies Tubes. She generally started with the lowest part of her ship and worked up. On the Stargazer proper, excluding the generally unmanned detachable warp pairs, that meant Fighter Maintenance. The main room was only big enough for two craft, and only had a partially assembled Essex 10-B in it at the moment. It was really only used for the big repairs, with most work being done where the fighters were stored.

Over in the port side corner was a red leather high backed chair, with it's accompanying wooden table. An empty tea cup sat on a saucer on the table. On a jury-rigged shelf nearby, there was the tea kettle, always hot, with a fresh batch made at the beginning of each shift. T'Gwen made her way over there, quietly. A couple of the maintenance staff might of spied her, but they gave no indication. They knew of her preferences during such a walk through. Lieutenant Pizarro didn't notice her, and T'Gwen decided to take the opportunity to see the Lieutenant in action.

She chose one of the spare tea cups, it looked to be the last one left of the Star Fleet Academy set, a pity that, and leaned up against one of the hull reinforcement pillars to watch. The tea was rather good, much better than the stuff she had in her office, in fact. She'd have to find out what Quimby was bribing the Quartermaster with.

It looked like Pizarro was getting in the way of the crewmen on duty at the moment. He seemed to be asking what every thing they were doing was for, and why they did it that way. That was okay, to a point, and in certain environments, but not here, and not to this extent. If Pizarro continued like this, he'd never develop the skills necessary for promotion.

She eyed the red leather chair. Perhaps it was time to pass on the advice she'd gotten from her Captain during her first week as Second Officer on the Science Vessel T'Kumbra.

"Lieutenant Pizarro, a word, if you will," she called out. The Lieutenant turned towards her. He hadn't looked young beside Jay when she first met him in her ready room, but without the comparison of the teenager beside him, it was clear that he was still young. T'Gwen was willing to bet that Pizarro had no chance of growing anything like Chief Quimby's prized handlebar mustache any time soon. He swiftly made his way around to the Captain.

"Yes, Captain?" Pizarro said. "Sorry, I didn't see you enter, sir."

"That was the effect I was trying to produce, Bertin," T'Gwen said. It was the first time she'd used his first name. "It is sometimes useful to walk around your ship as unnoticed as possible. Now, Bertin, I understand that Jay has assigned you to watch over Fighter Maintenance and learn as much as possible about how it runs."

"Yes Captain," Pizarro said. "That's why I decided to spend this shift down here."

"I do like officers who take initiative, but I'm not sure that you're going about this the right way," T'Gwen said. "You seem to be getting more in the way than doing anything. Perhaps it's time that I tell you what my old Captain Pellew told me, Bertin. Do you like tea?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with learning about Fighter Maintenance?" Pizarro asked. His expression was puzzled.

"Go, get yourself a cup of the tea, Bertin," T'Gwen said. "It is rather good down here. Select one of the blue patterned ones. Chief Quimby is rather attached to pink."

Pizarro poured himself a cup of tea and put a single sugar cube in it.

"Now, note this chair," T'Gwen said, pointing out the red leather chair. "Chief Quimby carefully placed it here for one reason. Can you guess why, Bertin?"

"I'm sure I don't know the Chief's reasoning, sir," Pizarro said.

"Sit down in it, Lieutenant," T'Gwen said. She was beginning to wonder about Bentin Pizarro. He sat down. "Now, tell me, how well can you see Crewman Ganth and Crewman Vithon's work?"

"Actually, pretty good." Pizarro sounded surprised.

"You've just learned why Chief Quimby placed the chair where he did," T'Gwen said. "Now, the question is, why did he need it in the first place?"

Pizarro was puzzled for a moment, his brow furrowed. Then suddenly, his face broke out in what T'Gwen believed was the first true smile she'd seen on him. "So he could sit here and watch his people work, seeing everything. If something goes wrong, he's right here to lend a hand, and can put his tea down on the table and jump right in to help."

"Very good, Bertin," T'Gwen said. "Sometimes you have to stand over someone to get something done right, but that should be something that you ration out. On a well-run bridge, or any other area on the ship, the Commanding Officer can spend most of their time on watch doing just this." She sipped out the last bit of her tea. "Crewman Vithon, I believe this is your design work, could you let the Lieutenant know how you designed it?"

"Certainly, Captain," the canine officer responded.

"Very good, Crewman," T'Gwen said, as she put her tea cup down in the dirty stack. "Carry on, Gentlemen. I have the reset of the ship to look in on." Behind her, T'Gwen could hear Vithon explaining his modifications to the Essex 10-B as she exited the room into the lower shuttle bay. Pizarro remained in the chair, sipping his tea.

...

Marrissa returned to her temporary quarters only when it was time for her to get ready for bed. She tossed her dress whites on a nearby chair as she took them off, stripping them off her sweating body. She'd spent the last of it demonstrating her procession sword routine, the one she'd made to "Saber Dance" when she was Chief of Security on the Enterprise. Her defense of her title in the Precession Sword Routine had been put off, due to the war, and she doubted that she'd be able to defend it, especially after today's performance.

Word had gotten around that she still held the title, and her routine had been a little bit spectacular for the category. So, when her day of showing Saavik around had ended, the First Officer of the Indefatigable had approached her about showing the Saber Dance Routine. It had been a good thing she'd kept up the routine on the Stargazer for its excellent exercise. Though on the Stargazer she used a wooden practice sword instead of the 125 centimeter long saber she'd developed it with.

It had been a mistake to use the saber. The bigger mistake was caving into the requests to do an encore. She'd chosen her routine from the prior competition for it, the one she'd come in almost last. "My Heart Will Go On" was an emotional tune for Marrissa, and it showed in her routine. This could have been a good thing, but with the stress of recent days the emotion was too much. Marrissa had cut through her left arm slightly when she'd tried to go to the more complex late middle portion. She'd managed to complete the last minute by dropping to the less complex beginning pattern. Marrissa had completed the routine, but had required mild medical attention.

Marrissa was sure she couldn't get through another minute of the day awake. It had been had been physically and emotionally draining. From the indignities of being a Lieutenant Commander pulled from her post as First Officer to serve as a visiting member of an allied fleet's liaison to its end in the less than stellar second routine, she had been on an emotional roller coaster. It hadn't helped when a Lieutenant who obviously hadn't seen her rank pips assumed she was one of the Indefatigable's dozen fresh out of the Academy Ensigns in the squadron's Captaincy Canidates usually under Lieutenant Pizarro's care, just a few minutes before.

Marrissa would like nothing more than to take a long hot water shower, but she'd been stuck with a shorter sonic shower, which did nothing to improve her rotten mood. She had even missed Jay's call. He was no doubt already asleep, and she knew better than to wake him. With her gone, Jay was the Stargazer's chief tactical resource, though the Captain was getting better, and it wasn't wise to deprive that resource of sleep.

As the ship remained in a war zone, Marrissa followed orders, putting a standard duty uniform on after her shower, only leaving off the rank pips and communicator, before sliding under the covers. Only after her head touched the pillow did the last of Marrissa's controls drop, and her eyes began to fill with tears.

Here she was in the middle of a war zone, serving, and serving well, as a Star Fleet Officer, yet no matter what she did she would still be the little girl. The little girl who was not fit for a uniform, not fit for her job, not fit stand on the bridge of a starship. She was not worthy of her uniform. No one trusted her training, her instincts, her abilities.

With her tears staining her pillow, Marrissa fell asleep, crying. Her tears would be dry by the time she was awoken, but she knew deep down that they would return again in the insecurity of the night.

...

Captain Berganmister Portinmire had watched the Saber Dance Routine from an anonymous position on the running track around the second level of the Indefatigable's ship's gym. He'd heard of the routine before. The music was a challenging piece to set any routine to, given the fast pace of the two and a half minute classical piece by Aram Khechaturian. It was an honor to win any of the Security Competitions which Starbase 13 traditionally held, but the Precession Sword Routine had a history of being considered the easiest and least demanding of them. It was, to put it mildly, the junk award of the two dozen team and personal competitions which the Starbase held annually.

Still, Portinmire did have to admit that Lieutenant Commander Picard's routine was better than all the previous ones that he'd seen. In fact, he'd had word from a fellow Captain who'd served as one of the judges that Lieutenant Commander Picard had blown the competitors out of the water, thus preserving the streak of the Enterprise's Chiefs of Security always winning at least one of the awards in their tenure for the last hundred and twenty years.

He'd been pretty sure that Lieutenant Commander Picard had chosen the Competition category because it was the only one that the then just short of fourteen-year-old had a chance of winning, and thus, he had dismissed its presence on her record, probably contributing to his personal placement of Lieutenant Commander last among the First Officers in his Squadron, initially.

Portinmire had raised that evaluation a little, after seeing her work as Captain Washington's tactical brain during the last few weeks, but in his mind she'd been an officer who had gotten her post based on who she was related to, not what she had done. However since Washington's call, could it have been just two days ago, he'd evaluated Lieutenant Commander Picard with a little more detail.

Her service jacket had the base details, rank, postings, a couple awards she'd earned, but inside it, oh that was where the story was told. First command when she wasn't even twelve, ensign's rank conveyed due to merit shown in battle by Star Fleet Command, what a start to a career. Judging by the notations, it looked like it hadn't gotten any less exciting since. It wasn't all praise. Apparently she'd once gotten into a fight with an Lieutenant while awaiting for an assignment after the Enterprise-D's crash. Then there were the troubles. She had a consistent problem with the press hounding her, and she'd apparently been beaten up when a shuttle she was piloting had been boarded.

Of all the things that Portinmire had access to in Lieutenant Commander Picard's record, however, it was Counselor Troi's evaluation that caused him the most troubling of thoughts. His first impression of Lieutenant Commander Picard had been that she was supremely confident. Underneath that bravado, was typical unsure of herself teenaged girl.

Portinmire believed Counselor Troi on this. She was a Betazoid, after all. It explained Captain Washington's request as well. The Lieutenant Commander lived in a period of prolonged stress, something that was never good for anyone, much less an officer who survived on the approval of her mentors. Picard needed someone that she respected to say she was doing well.

Confidence was a force that Portinmire was convinced flowed down the chain of command. If you trusted an officer with a duty, they would have the confidence to do their job, and trust the officers below them. He had to admit that he hadn't shown trust in young Lieutenant Commander Picard's abilities ... it was time to change that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Marrissa was not having a good day. She'd started it in the holodeck explaining how the various ships worked together in the Squadron with Sub-Commander Saavik. Then she'd had to show Saavik Main Engineering, where she not only made a fool of herself, but also reopened the cut from the previous night's demonstration. On top of all that, the Indefatigable's First Officer seemed to think it would be a good idea to change her battle station from the Bridge to Environmental Control. She had mumbled the fact that such an assignment was an insult to a visiting First Officer and the idea was dropped. It didn't help that she was developing a headache, and her period was due, either.

She turned the corner into the corridor which led to her own quarters. Marrissa was going to take a nice hot water shower. That was the only cure for a day like this.

"Stop!" came a baritone voice from behind her. She instinctively followed the order. "About face." It was the Lieutenant who'd tried to stop her in the hall the previous night, the one that had taken over the Indefatigable's Captaincy Candidates from Lieutenant Pizarro. "Your uniform is improper, Ensign. In case you hadn't heard, Ensigns only wear one pip."

The Lieutenant reached out and plucked off two of her rank pips, one the gold edged black one that she'd added when she reached Lieutenant Commander, the other one of the two rank pips she'd received long ago from Captain Picard when she'd been trapped in the turbolift. "That is the proper decoration for an Ensign. I'll keep these."

Marrissa tried to respond but her throat was all choked up. Suddenly she burst into tears with a deep sob. She dropped from her instinctual attention stance, at first slumping, and then collapsing against the corridor's wall. The Lieutenant barked something about not giving her permission to do something, but Marrissa didn't hear him as she slid down to the floor and into a fetal position, her tears refusing to stop.

...

Captain Berganmister Portinmire heard the sobs before the scene came into view. There was Lieutenant Commander Picard in a fetal position sobbing on the ground. He squatted next to Lieutenant Commander Picard, who was still crying. He gently turned her tear-stained face to face him as he said in a soft tone, "Are you okay, Commander?"

Marrissa could only shake her head no, as tears continued to flow.

"I understand you had a hard day, and that my officers haven't made it any better," Portinmire said. "I think we need to have a long talk, Marrissa. However, here is not the place. I believe your quarters are close." He helped Marrissa stand. "What happened to your rank pips?" There was a rough spot on her collar where there would usually be two more.

"He took them," Marrissa sobbed, tears threatening to return. "The Lieutenant told me I wasn't supposed wear them and ripped them off like I was one of the new Ensigns." The tears began to return again, as she sobbed, "One of them was my father's."

Portinmire placed his arm around her and gently directed her to her quarters. "I'll get them back from him." Portinmire was well aware of the tradition of passing pips to lesser officers of merit as they were promoted. It made some sense that Captain Picard would pass his to his adopted daughter with her promotions to Ensign and full Lieutenant, and like many officers, she no doubt treasured them. In fact, he had received his Captain's pip from his first Captain.

They entered Marrissa's quarters, and once there she broke down in tears again. Portinmire found himself gently hugging the young girl, just like he did his own little girl during the infrequent times when he was at home. For a good ten minutes they stayed that way.

Finally Marrissa pulled way, and dried her tears with her right sleeve. "Sorry sir," she said. "I haven't done cried like that since I was twelve."

"When you learned of you parent's deaths?" Portinmire inquired. Marrissa nodded. "It is understandable. We have been putting you under a lot of unnecessary stress for quite some time. Sometimes we forget that everyone has a breaking point, and I think we've managed to hit yours. I'm sorry we did."

Marrissa could only nod as she stood in front of the Captain.

"I had intended to talk to you today about that, but I think we'd both prefer if we did it when our emotions are both under control," Portinmire said. "So, why don't you take a hot water shower, and relax the rest of the shift. Then, tonight, join me for dinner in the Captain's mess."

"Aye sir," Marrissa said, snapping to attention.

"None of that, Marrissa," Portinmire said. "I think we've had enough formality today. I'll leave you to your shower. Don't spare the water." He left Marrissa behind him. When he passed where he'd found Marrissa, he realized that he had a wet spot where Marrissa had buried her face into his chest. As he looked down at his chest he spotted a slight rip in the carpet of the corridor where the Lieutenant had to have come to a stop to reprimand her. There was only one Lieutenant who had the mass to inflict such damage on the carpet with his steel toed boots.

"Captain Portinmire to Commander Luciani," he said, tapping his badge.

"Luciani, go ahead Captain," the response came quickly.

"Antonio, find Lieutenant Harkeness and see if he is in possession of two rank pips, one hollow, one full, the full well worn," Portinmire said, walking swiftly toward his office. "Don't let him deny it."

"What has the Lieutenant done, sir?" Luciani said.

"I'll tell you later, Antonio," Portinmire said. "Once you have that pip, escort Harkeness to my office."

"Aye sir."

"And Antonio, Lieutenant Commander Picard is off duty for the remainder of the day, including red alerts. Turn off the siren in her quarters, and lift water restrictions for her."

"Will that be all, Captain?"

"Yes, for now. Portinmire out."

...

Jay Gordon had reached his limit with paperwork. While it was the job of the Captain to command a ship, the First Officer ran the ship. He now knew why Marrissa protested so much when he broke into her work in the evening insisting that she take a break. It simply wasn't possible to keep up with everything in even two standard eight hour shifts.

He'd missed contacting Marrissa the previous day. She'd been engaged in some sort of demonstration when he'd called. Perhaps she'd be available now. It was the middle of Beta shift, after all. "Computer, is Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard on the USS Indefatigable available?" he inquired.

"Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard is not to be disturbed per orders of the Indefatigable's First Officer," the computer replied.

"Computer, is Commander Antonio Luciani available?" Jay inquired. While the computer's reply had been emotionless, Jay's inquiry was rough with sudden concern.

"Commander Antonio is available," the computer said.

"Connect me to him," Jay said, tapping his computer screen on.

In just a few seconds Commander Luciani appeared on the screen. Luciani was a long time First Officer, who had served under several Captains before settling under Captain Portinmire for the past five years. His black hair was thinning on top, but he still maintained a athletic figure despite his fifty-two years. Behind him was an almost finished painting of a Constellation Class Starship with a halo of fighters flying around it.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant Gordon?" Luciani asked, apparently cleaning his brush.

"I just tried to contact Marrissa and got a message that she was not to be disturbed and I'm a little worried," Jay said.

"Yes, I guess you would be, given that you do seem to always be her escort," Luciani said. "It seems that Lieutenant Commander Picard was the center of a discovery of a little problem today."

"Problem?" Jay said, the word catching in his throat. This wasn't good at all. Marrissa did not need to be at the center of a problem today.

"Yes, not one she caused, but I think she's suffering the most from it," Luciani replied. "We'd thought that Lieutenant Pizarro was our only real problem child, but figured that with exposure to a ship like yours for a bit, he might be salvageable. Unfortunately, his transfer has revealed that he was apparently a mild case. I assigned Lieutenant Bickham Harkeness to take his place, and in the last hour I've discovered that Harkeness is a holy terror."

Jay scowled.

Luciani took a deep breath. "It seems that shortly after the end of Alpha Shift, Harkeness encountered Lieutenant Commander Picard, and assuming due to her age that she was one of his Ensigns, reprimanded her for wearing a rank to which she wasn't entitled."

Jay took in an involuntary deep breath. That was hitting Marrissa in the worst possible place emotionally.

"Apparently Lieutenant Commander Picard broke into tears, and collapsed," Luciani said. "Harkeness left her there. Captain Portinmire found her and took her to her quarters, and ordered her to take some time off and a long hot shower, which she has done."

"And Lieutenant Harkeness?" Jay said, surprised at the hard tone of anger in his voice.

"The Captain reamed him for his behavior in front of all the Ensigns we'd assigned him to take care of him," Luciani said. "We've also relieved him of duty, until further notice."

"He couldn't have chosen a worse thing to do to Marrissa than to say she didn't deserve what she had," Jay said, reflecting on past problems that Marrissa had. "It's always been a sore spot for her."

"Lieutenant, I have to admit that I'm worried about Lieutenant Commander Picard," Luciani said. "So is the Captain. I understand that you've been friends with her for a long time."

"Ever since I can remember, sir," Jay replied. He could not recall a time where the blond girl had not been a part of his life.

"Is there anything that we can do to help her?" Luciani asked, his concern clear in his eyes.

"Well, the long hot shower order probably helped," Jay said. "A short time off helps, but not anything extended, and showing that her abilities are needed when she comes back on duty will probably be the best thing long term. When we were on the Enterprise, dinner with the Command Crew always seemed to work."

"The Captain has invited her to eat dinner with him tonight," Luciani said. "Should we make that with the Senior Staff?"

"I'm not sure," Jay said. "That might intimidate her too much after today. She doesn't know the Indefatigable's staff, like she did with the Enterprise's. She used to very shy and when she's upset that shyness returns."

"Hmmm, well, I'd really like her to at least meet up with the core of our command staff," Luciani said, picking up his pallet and looking at the various prepared colors. He dipped the brush in a deep red. "Lieutenant, you submitted a plan to the Squadron Tactical Discussion Group last week about shifting the location of a wing of your fighters around to other ships on rotation."

"Yes," Jay said, puzzled at the sudden change of subject.

"Well, I'm a little concerned about the readiness of the Indy's shuttlebay staff and would like a little drill," Luciani said, turning towards the painting and signing his name and the stardate to the picture. "Do you think that the Stargazer could spare yourself and a wing of fighters around the end of Beta Shift? Afterwards we could perhaps discuss it and the drill over dinner."

"I think we could," Jay said, smiling. "I'll have to talk to Captain Washington of course. And if you should forget to tell Marrissa of my arrival, well, I always have liked surprising her."

"Well, she does have that do not disturb sign out," Luciani said. "Unless I hear otherwise, I'll expect you at say, 1600?"

"That looks good to me," Jay said.

"Then, I'll talk to you then, Indefatigable out."

Jay turned off his computer screen and pushed back his chair. He needed to talk with Captain Washington now. It looked like his efforts to keep Marrissa in good mental health were failing.

...

Captain T'Gwen Washington was about midway through her walk through the ship. It wasn't a walk that she could complete in a shift. In fact this was the third shift in the current iteration of the path through all the corridors and work areas on the ship. Deck 8 was one of the decks split by the Fighter Bay, which made her have to double-back more than most decks did. She'd seen this part of the ship a few minutes ago, so she was walking quickly.

She'd already covered the forward port section of the ship, and now was heading back around Cargo Bay Three towards Engineering. Unlike the bigger ships in the fleet, the Stargazer just had one Engineering Section, with the warp core in the middle, and the port and starboard impulse engines on each side.

As she peered into Cargo Bay Three, she heard the distinctive rhythm of Lieutenant Jay Gordon's approach. While Marrissa had been known to skip when she was in a very good mood, Jay had a habit of walking in an almost perfect beat. "Jay, what brings you down to Deck 8 this afternoon," she said, not even looking his way.

"I just got some bad news from the Indefatigable," Jay said. Washington found his tone to have a note of worry. "Apparently Marrissa had a minor breakdown a few hours ago."

T'Gwen stopped abruptly. "How badly?" There was an unusual note of concern in her voice. Marrissa was her First Officer, and more than that, Marrissa was like a younger sister to her in some ways.

"She broke into tears after a lower-ranking officer reprimanded her for wearing improper rank insignia," Jay said. "Captain Portinmire gave her Beta Shift off to recover."

"You're still worried about her," T'Gwen stated. Her eyes had picked out the signs on Jay. His easy-going posture had been replaced with an almost ramrod one. His usually cheerful blue eyes were now ice cold.

Jay made no move to deny it. "I'd like to lead Purple Wing over to the Indefatigable. Commander Luciani would like us to drill his shuttle bay crew on fighter servicing and other fighter emergencies, anyway."

"That would make my two top tactical talents off ship," T'Gwen observed. "Tactical instinct is my weakness."

"Respectfully, Captain, I think you're selling yourself short," Jay almost snapped.

T'Gwen rose her hand, stopping Jay from continuing. "Relax, Jay. I know better than to stop you from seeing Marrissa when she needs you. I just want you back by 2200 hours, and if you'd send word as to how Marrissa is doing, I'd appreciate it."

Jay remained standing before T'Gwen for just a moment, the words apparently needing time to sink in.

"Now, go get Purple Wing ready," T'Gwen said. "The sooner you provide Commander Luciani with his drill, the sooner you can visit Marrissa. Business before pleasure, after all." Jay's stance was relaxing.. "You're dismissed, Lieutenant."

When the Captain entered Engineering a few minutes later, she spotted a young Ensign staring at her. She quickly schooled her face. She couldn't entirely let the myth of the Vulcan's lack of emotions be revealed. It was a planet-wide conspiracy after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Marrissa laid on her back staring up at the ceiling of her temporary quarters. On a nearby chair was the carelessly tossed uniform she'd taken off to take her shower. The towel she'd dried off with was at the foot of the bed. She'd managed to find the effort to put on a pair of panties before she collapsed on the bed, but no more. She was completely drained. Her tears had run out under the hot water in the shower. She wanted to cry more, but no more tears would come, even with Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings playing in the background.

She was worthless, unworthy, and unfit. Her post was no doubt taken from her. Her reputation was now that of the little girl who couldn't hack it. She was the girl who had broken under pressure, light pressure, infinitesimal pressure. She couldn't even cry about it anymore!

The door chime intruded into her musing. "Go away," she responded. It chimed again. "I said go away!" Instead of chiming again, her door slid open.

In the door stood Jay Gordon in his dress whites. In his right hand was a bouquet of red roses. He stepped into the room and the door slid closed behind him. "Sorry about barging in on you, but I'd heard that you needed cheering up ... and judging from the tune I hear playing, I'd say the rumor I heard was correct. Computer, replace Adagio with Sitok's Vulcan Lute Concerto in C Major Opus Hundred Fifty-two."

"Lieutenant Jay Alan Gordon," Marrissa growled. "Get out of my room."

"No, I brought flowers," Jay said, finding vase to put the roses in.

Marrissa's growl deepened as she scrambled for something to cover herself. "Jay, I'm nearly naked." There was the towel on the foot of her bed.

"So it seems," Jay said looking at her with an impish grin. "I've seen you in less. It's usually more flattering on you than that towel." Marrissa snapped him with the towel. "Ow!"

Marrissa glared at him as she wrapped the towel around her. "You're not leaving, are you?" The question was presented as a fact. Marrissa couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing. She tried to stare at him, with her iciest glare.

"No, I'm not, Marrissa," Jay said, staring right back with those blue eyes. "We made a pact years ago to be there for each other when either of us had a hard time."

Marrissa felt his eyes opening up her, and turned away, averting her gaze from his eyes. He'd been there before, when her parents died, and she had pushed him away, locked herself in the Captain's Ready Room. He had still persisted. She could tell he wasn't going away now. "You heard about the Lieutenant," the statement was dry, emotionless. Captain Washington couldn't have done better.

"Harkeness? Yes," Jay said, sitting down beside her on the bed. "Two meters tall, a hundred and seventy kilograms, built like a mountain. He probably could intimidate Captain Portinmire, much less a girl a half a meter shorter and a third his weight."

"He told me I didn't deserve to be a Lieutenant Commander," Marrissa said, feeling Jay's arm going around her shoulders. "I probably don't deserve to be even an Ensign." She shrugged him off for a moment. She didn't want his affection at the moment.

"I think plenty of people disagree with that, Marrissa," Jay said. His hand had snuck back up and was kneading her left shoulder.

"I don't think so," Marrissa said, her voice choked with emotion.

"Computer, citation for presentation of Ensign's rank for Marrissa," Jay said, moving behind Marrissa.

The computer read, "Citation on Stardate 47620 accompanying the presentation of the rank of Ensign conferred on Marrissa Picard, as recorded by Admiral Necheyev, Star Fleet Operations: Seldom do we discover such talents at such a young age. Seldom, even when we discover tactical talent like young Marrissa at the normal time, does that person show it in such a visible manner. Let it not be said that Star Fleet lets such talent get away. I can think of no more deserving young girl to hold the title of Star Fleet's Youngest Ensign."

"That was years ago, Jay," Marrissa said, blushing as Jay started massaging her shoulders.

"So, you need the what have I done lately, your royal highness," Jay said, in a mockingly stern tone. Marrissa shot her left elbow back at his ribs. "Ow! You're dangerous with that elbow." Marrissa knew he was smiling despite her elbowing. She was glad he was behind her because that grin of his was infectious. "I could go on, siting entry after entry in your record, both promotion and awards. No one is going to forget the Seventh Fleet, for instance, any time soon, but I don't think I need to go that far, do I?"

"Not really," Marrissa said. Jay's careful massaging of her shoulders really felt good. "But you can't deny some people don't think I deserve what I have."

"No I can't," Jay said, as his hands on her shoulders drew a moan from her body. "But those who count think you do. Even the Stargazer's noncoms like you and think you deserve what you have."

"Really?" Marrissa squeaked. She was surprised that she had squealed out like that.

"Yes, they tell me so when I eat in their mess," Jay said, kneading her shoulders. "You really could use a full massage, Marrissa. You're tense."

"Are you offering?" Marrissa asked. She knew Jay was good at them, as he'd given her one before, after Commander Riker had arranged the training, but it had been a while.

"Of course," Jay said. "It should be just the thing to pass the time until Dinner. Now, lay down on your belly, please."

Marrissa obeyed and soon her depression melted away as Jay massaged out the knots in her back. The towel slid off as he worked lower on her back, but it felt good, so she let Jay continue as she listened to the calm work of Sitok Jay had chosen. It nearly lulled her to sleep. Jay's massage, she decided, was the most pleasant way she'd spent an hour in years.

...

Captain Portinmire had chosen to host his dinner in the Captain's Dining Room. It was a room that he didn't use much, but it had been on the plans of every starship since before NX-01. His guest list had enlarged a bit since he'd originally made the decision, and everyone was beginning to arrive. His own crew didn't expect a greeting as they meandered in, but he would greet the two from the Stargazer.

His first officer arrived first, of course. Antonio considered that a duty of the First Officer. As usual his dress uniform had a couple small spots of oil paint on it. Otherwise, his uniform was impeccable. He brought in the just finished painting of the Stargazer and placed it in the vacant space on the port side wall. It would remain there until Captain Washington was presented with it.

Next to arrive was his Chief of Security. Lieutenant Commander Pinot had his usual PADD with him. The Vulcan was the tallest of his officers, at exactly two meters tall. He appeared to be working on intruder defense plans, based on the brief glance of the PADD that Portinmire had. Pinot was never satisfied with any plan until he had to use it.

Those were the only crew members that he'd invited, mainly at his First Officer's suggestion. Originally he'd planned to have just himself and Lieutenant Commander Picard dining tonight, but Antonio had made a convincing case. A young officer like Picard could clam up if it was left to just one on one. So, he'd bowed to inviting his First Officer and Chief of Security, even if it meant that the Chef would serve that odorous Vulcan soup, and the squash risotto his first officer would have ...

The door opened to reveal his final two guests for dinner. Lieutenant Jay Gordon had obviously led Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard here. True, it was her arm that was demurely linked inside his, but he stepped forward first. Both were dressed in their dress whites, perfectly arranged.

Portinmire focused his attention on Lieutenant Gordon at first, as the Lieutenant made the courtesy acknowledgment of those higher in rank already in the room. He would be the lowest ranked officer at the table. The Lieutenant was fourteen, and stood just 163 centimeters high. His blond hair was short, but not buzz short. It was cut with bangs across the front, enhancing the Lieutenant's young appearance. He didn't know the Lieutenant. It was clear that the Lieutenant was a long time friend of Lieutenant Commander Picard. It took only a glance at their respective records and a molecule of intelligence to put that together.

His glance shifted to Lieutenant Commander Picard as the Lieutenant pulled out the chair for her. Where as the Lieutenant had made no effort either way to disguise his age, Picard had. Star Fleet Uniforms did not make it easy to do this. Unlike when he'd last seen her, her pony tail had been replaced by a tight French braid. There was just a hint of lipstick on her lips, as well. Her overall appearance, Portinmire judged, was that of a competent officer, and her record seemed to bear that out.

"Marrissa, I trust that you got the pips I sent Ensign Bates to return to you," Portinmire said, intentionally beginning to put the meal on a first name basis, at least among those not yet Captain.

"Yes, sir," Marrissa said.

"Good," Portinmire said as the Chief came in and began delivering the pre-ordered dishes. His own fried chicken wings with sides of potatoes and green beans were delivered first, of course. He did not start immediately, but instead bowed his head in prayer. His First Officer and Chief of Security both didn't do this, but they waited until he picked up his fork before they started. Portinmire noted that Marrissa had also bowed her head in prayer, moving her lips as she did so. Jay had not.

For a bit they ate in silence. As he had expected, both Marrissa's and Jay's table manners were perfect. He'd expected no less from officers who grew up as Star Fleet brats. While the Picard name wasn't yet one of the Fleet Families, Gordon was. That linage boasted an officer who survived a Cadet Cruise with Kirk.

"Marrissa, I heard the other day that you've found that the Stargazer's design has been limiting deployment options," Portinmire said.

"Yes, sir," Marrissa said, in a pause between bites of her buttered noodles.

"Elaborate, please." Portinmire said, before finishing the last bite of his chicken.

"Any ship with a single bay will limit options based on placement," Marrissa said, placing her fork neatly aligned on her napkin. "The forward facing bay of the Stargazer makes it ideal for deployment of a fighter screen when a task force arrives at a destination. However in a convoy situation, especially when the Stargazer is in the point position, a rear facing bay works better. A rear facing bay also works better for dropping off wings on assigned tasks. With a forward facing bay, the Stargazer has to pause and alter course during launch some times."

"Then placing the Stargazer at point isn't making the best use of her," Antonio said. "Would you agree with that, Jay?"

"Yes, sir," Jay said, before swallowing a rather large forkful of beans.

"We'll have to consider that in deployments, Antonio," Portinmire said. The carriers were new to his and most all of Star Fleet's experience. It appeared that he was going to have to study them just a little bit more. At least he had two people who had or where currently filling the Fighter Commander role to question. Washington was a fair Captain, but it was clear that the two teens were really the tactical brain of the Stargazer.

"Red Alert, all hands to Battle Stations!" the computer announced.

Everyone quickly stood up, tossing their silverware onto their plates.

"Picard, I want you on the Bridge," Portinmire ordered, walking around the table towards the door. "You'll call the launch of Gordon's wing of fighters. How soon can they launch?"

"Three minutes, tops," Jay said, exiting the room with the other officers. "I didn't leave them on hot standby."

"That will have to do," Portinmire said, as Jay split off to run towards the Indefatigable's shuttle bay. The turbolift doors opened and he and the remaining officers entered. "Bridge." He glanced over at Picard. She stood erect and posed to exit onto the Bridge as soon as the turbolift doors opened.

...

The turbolift doors parted, and Marrissa got her first view of the Indefatigable's Bridge. It was perhaps a typical Excelsior Class Starship Bridge of its time, save the transparent plotting screen at the rear of the Bridge. The Stargazer had a similar one in the fighter operations center behind the hanger bay. Captain Portinmire took his place in the center seat replacing a Lieutenant. The Lieutenant moved to take the station to the Captain's left, but the Captain shook his head.

"Lieutenant Commander Picard, take Fleet Ops," Portinmire ordered as Commander Luciani took the First Officer's traditional seat to the Captain's right.

Marrissa quickly reviewed her screen. The Indefatigable was at point. The Saber Class Light Cruiser Division was split evenly on the wings of the formation. The Dagger and Bodkin were to port, and the Wakizashi and Dirk on the starboard. The Stargazer was at the rear, with the Scouts Davey Crockett and Sacagawea closing in from port and starboard, respectively. In the middle of the formation were the six cargo vessels which comprised the Squadron's current mission. The formation was a perfect as you could get to begin a battle. It wouldn't stay that way.

The reason was quite clear. It appeared that the Dominion had decided that the convoy merited a response of one Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser and four Jem'Hadar Attack Ships. This was the first time they'd been up against a Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser. In a one on one match, such a ship was generally considered to match the Federation's new Sovereign Class. Marrissa quickly assigned the designator Alpha One to the Battle Cruiser and Beta One through Four to the Attack Ships.

"Commander, the Battle Cruiser is our target," Portinmire ordered. "Fleet Ops, assign our Light Cruiser Division to attack an Attack Ship each. Stargazer will guard the convoy. Crocket and Sacagawea will play zone."

Marrissa passed along the orders as the Indefatigable turned to port and began its run towards the more powerful Battle Cruiser. The distance closed, and the differences became clear. The Battle Cruiser was nearly three times the Indefatigable's size. The Indefatigable was not without its advantages. Its slashing course closed in on Alpha One swiftly. Just before they reached Alpha One, the light lit indicating that Jay and Purple Wing were ready. Marrissa shot a quick brief to Jay on what he'd come out on. "Sir, the fighters are ready to be deployed as we pass."

"Launch once we clear, Fleet Ops," Portinmire ordered.

The Indefatigable shook as fire came in from Alpha One. It returned fire and held its course. A display blew at the rear of the Bridge. The Battle Cruiser filled the view screen, and then suddenly, the Indefatigable was past it. Marrissa hit a button, and the fighters launched.

...

The Essex 10 fighter craft registry NFC-152, call sign Stargazer Six, left the shuttle bay of the Indefatigable at maximum power, Lieutenant Jay Gordon at the helm. Behind him were the seven fighters of Purple Wing, with their purple tipped wings already glowing with fully changed phasers.

A fighter craft could not handle a full engagement with a Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser. They tended to get eaten up in the approach. But this time the approach was not a problem. Alpha One was in point blank range, and Purple Wing took full advantage of it. Close range attack was not something that the Battle Cruiser was designed to defend against. It was a weapon of longer range destruction.

An Essex 10 was not a weapon of long range destruction. Its fire was immediate and deadly. Jay was using it to it's upmost, raking along the port side of Alpha One. They'd eventually have to withdraw, and the odds of his fighter or other members of the Purple Wing being hit would increase exponentially as they increased their range from the Battle Cruiser.

The Battle Cruiser was trying to shake the bloodletting fleas it had acquired, but Jay had trained his pilots well. They stuck to the port side of Alpha One, burning holes in the Battle Cruiser's shields. Out of the corner of his eyes he spotted the Indy closing in again. Alpha One flinched towards the port, and his fighters neatly stayed along side. He'd have to reevaluate his placement of Purple Wing's ranking. Usagi had apparently trained her people better than he'd thought possible from the clumsy blonde.

The flinch brought Alpha One on a new course, and directly ahead was a welcome sight to Jay. It looked like the Battle Cruiser was about to make a close pass on the Stargazer. It would be a perfect chance for his fighters to slip out of their position and rearm. "Stargazer Six to Purple Wing, prepare to execute Hydra Five and rearm." Jay fired off the last of his torpedoes. It pierced the shields and caused a satisfying vent of air when it impacted Alpha One's hull.

Captain T'Gwen Washington would never admit to nervousness on her bridge. Yet, that perhaps had described her since the Jem'Hadar had been spotted. So far battle raged mostly away from her ship and the convoy. The Indefatigable and the Light Cruiser Division had met the Jem'Hadar some distance away. She'd released Black Wing to help guard the Convoy and sent Blue and Yellow Wings to assist in the battle with the targets designated Beta One through Four. Green Wing was on standby, and Red Wing was held back.

Red Wing's commander, Lieutenant Kathy Lochard, was handling Fighter Ops on the Bridge, and Lieutenant Pizarro was in the First Officer's seat. Otherwise, the bridge had its usual staff. That was somewhat comforting, but she missed the tactical advice of Jay and Marrissa. So far, she'd been able to do just the routine orders, nothing fancy.

Her time to worry about that lack abruptly came to and end when her Tactical Officer announced, "Target Alpha One incoming at One Oh Eight mark fifty-two."

"On screen!" T'Gwen ordered. The Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser was indeed closing, and his course appeared to be quite erratic. "Ready phasers and torpedoes."

"Captain, I have a transmission on the fighter band," Kathy announced. "It's Lieutenant Gordon, he's apparently about to preform Hydra Five."

A phrase that Jay Gordon had once said to her popped into her mind. 'Don't fire untill you see the whites of their eyes.' He'd said it was an ancient order from one of the wars on Earth, and good advice on ambushing. "Hold you fire, Tactical," Washington ordered. The Battle Cruiser would need to get close for Jay to use the Stargazer as cover for his escape. "I don't want them to flinch away. Helm, do you best to put us on the port side of Alpha One as she passes. Kathy, do you think Green Wing can preform Hydra One as Purple Wing comes in?"

"Definitely," Kathy replied. "They'll be ready."

"Time that, and alert Fighter Maintenance to go to reloading stations," Washington said. "Bertin, keep an eye on the other Jem'Hadar. Tactical, ready a full spread to fire on my mark."

Alpha One continued to close. Washington took a deep breath. "Launch Green Wing, fire all weapons and break to port two points!"

Her crew executed her orders quickly. She saw Purple Wing peel off the port side of Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser just before the Stargazer's weapons fired. As Alpha One passed her port side quickly became obscured by the exploding of a full 'broadside' from the Stargazer. Green Wing followed on the heels of the fire, adding their own fire as they closed in on the now weak side of Alpha One.

Alpha One passed out of range, the Indefatigable nipping at its heels, and Green Wing becoming the new fleas in its fur. Washington took a deep breath. She'd pulled that one off.

"Captain, target Beta Two is closing on the Wayfarer," Bertin announced.

"Black Wing is responding," Kathy announced. "Purple Wing is rearming. Lieutenant Gordon is requesting to lead Red Wing out in my place."

"Ready Red Wing," Washington ordered. She would hold back from deploying Red Wing. As long as it was there, so was Jay.

"The Wakizashi has been destroyed," Tactical announced. "Flag is requesting an additional Wing to target Beta Four."

"Purple Wing is ready," Kathy said.

"Launch Purple Wing, rotate Yellow Wing to Beta Four," Washington said, watching Alpha One move off, the Indefatigable tearing into its side. "Purple Wing is to assist Yellow Wing."

"Aye sir," Kathy said.

Washington took the momentary pause to see what else was going in. For the moment, none of the Jem'Hadar were approaching the convoy. The Dagger had directed Beta One into the cross fire of the Crocket and Sacagawea, and it didn't look like that one would last long. Yellow Wing was alone with Beta Four. Purple Wing was still on it's way, arching over the Cargo Ship Sashtakovich to approach from the port.

Washington's hearing was acute enough that she could hear the whispers that other bridge officers couldn't from Fighter Command. Beta Four was turning towards the Cargo Ship Wayfarer. The Wayfarer had low shields from an earlier attack. There was no way Purple Wing would get there in time to turn them away.

"Become like the wind," was the whispering breath of a command from Yellow Leader. The Wing formed up in a V formation, and began venting plasma as they moved between Beta Four and the Wayfarer. Beta Four closed, and aimed right for the center of the formation, a collusion course. "Fire all weapons." The fighters and Beta Four were enveloped in glowing plasma, expanding, exploding, then contracting. The Jem'Hadar Attack Ship didn't emerge from the plasma. Only a single fighter did.

"Yellow Seven reports target Beta Four destroyed," Kathy announced, then quieter, "and the loss of her six wing mates."

...

There was a respectful silence on the Bridge. The Stargazer had never nearly lost an entire wing in a single blow. The only sound on the bridge was of the escaping air following the deep gasp that the news had caused.

The silence couldn't last long, though. Soon the Indefatigable was on it's way back, Alpha One driven before it. "Launch Red Wing!" Washington ordered. She was committed now. "Come about to four six mark two eight, fire weapons as they bear." She watched as Green Wing pealed off, the Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser exploding as it approached. "Six points to port, full impulse, now!" The exploding Battle Cruiser sped by to port, dissolving to plasma as she passed.

"The Shastakovitch has been hit by a stray torpedo from one of the Betas," Tactical reported. "They're abandoning ship."

Washington spied Beta Three coming in towards the convoy. "Helm, one six eight, mark four, put us between the Wayfarer and Beta Three." Beta Three found itself under fire, and peeled off its attack.

"Beta Two, on a collusion course!"

"Full spread of torpedoes low speed launch, helm, forty mark ninety on my mark," Washington said, watching them closely. "Now!" The Stargazer shot upwards and to the starboard. Meanwhile Beta Two had its shields peppered with a half dozen torpedoes that it had run into.

"Resume position over the convoy." Washington had gotten her rhythm, and now the decisions flowed. She spared no thought for her missing teen tacticians until the Indefatigable sounded the all clear.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Captain Portinmire surveyed the Post Battle Preliminary reports with a scowl. After nine successful defenses of Convoy Two Seven Nine, the Dominion had just made its first significant dent in his forces. He'd lost one light cruiser, the Wakizashi; six fighter craft; and two cargo ships, the Shastakovitch and the Lady Byrd. Two more of his light cruisers, the Bodkin and the Dirk were severely damaged, and would have to stay behind for repairs when they reached Starbase 375 in two days. For now, the Dagger was towing the Dirk, and the Bodkin was working without power in it's aft quarter.

Personnel-wise, his squadron might even be worse off. Captain Davista of the Wakizashi had been his division commander for the light cruisers. Davista, if Portinmire was entirely honest, probably wasn't a big loss, but Captain Ganosta of the Dagger was. While the Dagger was fully functional, a power surge on its bridge had caused the loss of her Captain, and the disability by the end of the battle of the remainder of her bridge crew. A very good Lieutenant by the name of Bradstreet had taken over, but he'd need to send someone else over there. Bradstreet was over his head, but could probably serve as a passable Acting First Officer.

Another big loss was all but the most junior member of the Stargazer's Yellow wing. Lieutenant Gordon had placed a note that he was making a proposal to nominate the entire wing for a Medal of Valor. Portinmire made a quick message back, seconding the nomination. On his side PADD, he made a note to write Lieutenant Gordon up for one as well. Not only had he led Purple Wing to the very dangerous close in attack on the Battle Cruiser, but once he'd joined up with Red Wing, he'd led that wing to take on the undamaged Attack Cruiser which had destroyed the Wakizashi.

The Wayfarer's Master had sent a recording of that face off. It was, in a word, impressive. Somehow the entire wing had managed to avoid every single bit of fire from the Attack Cruiser. The aforementioned Attack Cruiser had been incinerated by carefully timed torpedoes from all seven fighters after their phasers had wiped out its shields.

The Squadron had come out ahead at the end of the battle, taking out the Battle Cruiser and all four Attack Cruisers, but they couldn't handle another such attack. Since this convoy had left Starbase 48, it had been hit nine times with more forces every time. Portinmire hoped there wouldn't be a tenth.

Finished with the doom and gloom for a while, Portinmire paused to consider his options. He had three command-qualified full Commanders in the squadron, one of which was already commanding the Sacagawea and the other two were both on his ship. He could spare Luciani to help his squadron.

...

As Fighter Commander on the Stargazer, it was Jay's job to write the letters when fighter pilots died in the line of duty. The Captain would also write a short one as well, but his had to cover the bulk of the points. It was a job that Jay had not been prepared for, at first. Fighter Pilots were lost all too often for him not to get good at it, though. That fact did trouble him. Since the beginning of the war, the Stargazer's Fighter Pilots' losses were always below the Fleet Average, though, and Jay intended to keep them that way.

He hated writing the letters. This time he'd lost all but one member of Yellow Wing. He'd never lost that much in one battle. It was also the first time he'd lost one of his Wing Commanders in battle. Blue Wing's first Wing Commander had been transferred to the Victory as her Fighter Commander, and until today that had been the only way he'd lost them. He'd left Lieutenant junior grade Akabayshi's until the last. It was quickly turning out to be the longest. Akabayshi had been the first Wing Commander he had met.

Ichiro Akabayshi had been shorter than even Marrissa. While short stature seemed to be common among fighter pilots, he had been the shortest. His wing, he called them the Kami. They were a cautious wing, one that Jay had worried would lack the fire when the battle came. They had not. Yellow Wing never seemed to let it all out in training. Jay had sensed that they were holding something back. In every single test they scored as the average wing on the Stargazer, but Jay could trust Akabayshi's Kami to get things done.

Jay finished the letter, and sent it off to the Captain. Then he headed for Yellow Wing's Quarters. They were only four doors down from Jay's. The door was already sporting six black ribbons of mourning. It opened at Jay's approach.

The common room of Yellow Wing's barracks featured a Shinto Altar at the end. The lone survivor of the wing, Ensign Kasumi Akabayshi, the late Wing Commander's little sister, was kneeling before it. On her right was Green Wing's Commander, Lieutenant junior grade T'Par, and on her left was Black Wing's Commander, Lieutenant junior grade Dukat. They were all kneeling in quiet contemplation, an unusual combination of Vulcan, Human, and Cardassian.

Jay had no real religion, or strong beliefs in meditative practices, but he joined them, finding a place between the Ensign and the Vulcan. Remembering Marrissa and her mother, he did the Sign of the Cross and kneeled down, his hands placed together in prayer like he'd seen Marrissa do.

For almost a quarter hour, he kneeled there, waiting, respecting Kasumi's grief. Then suddenly Kasumi sobbed, the first sound she had made since he'd gotten there. Jay turned towards her, and soon found the grief-stricken Ensign crying in his arms. T'Par placed a comforting hand on the Ensign's shoulder. It took her another quarter hour to cry herself out.

Ensign Akabayshi then pulled herself together. "Sorry, sir," she said, as she pulled herself together.

"It's all right, Kasumi," Jay said. "I expected it, when I came in here. How are you doing?"

"Not good, sir," Akabayshi said. "I was okay until I got out of my fighter, but when I realized that Ichiro wasn't going to meet me..." Akabayshi broken into tears again, and this time turned into Dukat's shoulder.

"T'Par and I found her crying next to her fighter," Dukat said. "We brought her back here, and T'Par suggested some meditation before the altar before she went to bed."

"Very good advice," Jay said. "Ensign, I'm going to give you the next few days off. You come to me when you think you're ready for duty again, okay?" The Ensign nodded. "If you want to talk, my door will be open to you."

"As will mine," T'Par interjected.

"I have put your entire wing up for the Medal of Valor, and Captain Portinmire has endorsed it," Jay said. He knew he was fumbling to say something, anything, to make his pilot feel better. "I know it's not much for losing your brother and your wing mates, but they deserve it at the very least. Now, go get some rest."

"Aye sir," the Ensign said, in a sad tone, almost sobbing.

Jay and Dukat left as T'Par guided her to her room and bed. In silence the two made there way to the Fighter Debriefing Room. Three other Wing Commanders where there. "T'Par will be late," Jay said. "She's taking care of Ensign Akabayshi."

"How is Kasumi?" Kathy Lochard, commanding Red Wing, asked.

"About as well as can be expected," Dukat said. "She and her brother were very close, to the point of sharing a room. T'Par and I found her crying and took her back to Yellow Wing's Quarters. T'Par's putting her to bed right now."

"I must say, Mikor, I didn't expect you, of all people, to be there when I stopped by," Jay said. "Keep surprising me and I might have to put you up for a promotion."

"I live to serve, Lieutenant!" Dukat said, with a snap salute.

"Speaking of promotions, Jay," Douglas Wilder, commanding Blue Wing, said. "I think we should consider a couple. Ensign Akabayshi is one, Ensign Hino the other."

"I'll agree with Akabayshi," Usagi Tsukino, commanding Purple Wing said. "After the rest of Yellow Wing was destroyed, she formed up with my wing. I was very impressed. She may have been Yellow Seven, but she's better than my Purple Two. I admit to bias with Ensign Hino."

"Do you think Hino might be able to do something with Orange Wing?" Jay asked. "Star Fleet has a dozen new pilots waiting at Starbase 375, and we're losing Lieutenant Casbah. He's apparently decided that Security is the way to go."

"Hip, Hip, Hooray," Tsukino said. "But I wouldn't inflict Rae on Orange Wing. Let her take my wing. I'll attempt to get Orange into shape."

"You're volunteering to take on the Casbah Crashers?" Kathy said. "Usagi, I always thought you were crazy, but this takes the cake."

"Someone has to do something with them," Tsukino defended. "We can't seem to get rid of them, so we might as well see if we can get them up to standard."

"Agreed," Jay said. "I'll send you over to Orange, but just for a while. We'll be bulking up a bit at the Starbase. I was informed just a few minutes ago that not only are we going to have all the fighters we lost replaced, but we'll get ten spares. We could let them remain as spares until we need them, but with a dozen newbies arriving, I'm thinking we should do something else."

"Two training wings?" Kathy guessed.

"Not quite. Six of them will go to the new Yellow Wing, and I do think that Ensign Akabayshi deserves a chance to command that, if she feels that she's ready, but not until she tells me she is," Jay said. "Then I want a suggestion for an Ensign to make our eighth Wing Commander. They'll command the other six newbies. Purple will get Ensign Tomoe. Whoever gives me the third new Wing Commander gets Ensign McGeorge."

The table groaned. "Come on, he's a great pilot," Jay said.

"Yes, but he flirts the pants off any female that comes in his range," Wilder said. "I've lost two pilots due to him, and Kathy's lost another. Troy's been that way since the Academy."

"I think Ensign Sinok is our best option for the third, but I wouldn't give him a new wing," Kathy said, as she looked over her PADD. "Maybe transfer T'Par to the new wing, what color are we going to call it anyway?"

"It will be Silver Wing. We have the paint available," Jay said. "I'll get T'Par's opinion. Rooming with a Vulcan wing may be just the thing to cool McGeorge down. Is there anything else on the personnel side?" Everyone indicated no. "Then onto today's battle . . ."

...

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard was having a fairly good day. She'd done a good job at Fleet Ops, receiving public thanks from Portinmire, and her job showing Sub-Commander Saavik around was over. True, Saavik was still around, Captain Portinmire had convinced the Warbird that had come to pick her up to stay with the convoy until Starbase 375, and Marrissa would still be Saavik's contact in the Squadron. It still was a pretty good day.

That was until she turned the corner and found her way blocked by five of the senior Lieutenants on the Indefatigable. Donner, Nunn, Murdoch, Warwick, and Hernadez were all bigger, older, and each out weighed Marrissa by at least thirty kilograms. She soon found herself standing in the middle of a Cargo Bay.

Lieutenant Donner stood in front of her. "Marrissa Amber Flores Picard, you stand before the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable a dishonorable girl," Donner said, his deep voice growling out each word. "We have tried and convicted you of inability to function under adversity, demonstrable loss of control leading to injurious error, reckless behavior detrimental to the safety of all onboard, and general actions unbecoming an officer. As such we have arranged this little ceremony."

"I have..." Marrissa started to speak before Lieutenant Warwick slapped her so hard she fell down.

"The dishonored are not allowed to speak when being discharged from a ship," Donner said. "Should they do so, they may be hit."

"Some accounts indicate whipping would be a good course," Lieutenant Nunn said. "Be glad I convinced Murdoch to leave his whip behind."

"Yes," Donner said. "You are to remain at attention all through the ceremony. Failure to do so . . . well I think we just covered it. We will depart at the end of the ceremony. You must remain standing at attention until the door closes behind the last of us. Lieutenant Nunn, you drew first."

Lieutenant Nunn stepped over to her. She reached over to her rank pips and ripped them off her. They didn't go easily like they normally did. Instead they ripped off, tearing through her mock turtle neck. Nunn stepped back and threw the pips behind her. Marrissa heard each one of them hit cargo boxes. Ping, ping, ping.

Then it was Lieutenant Hernadez's turn. The woman stepped up and ripped off Marrissa's communicator, taking a portion of her uniform jacket with it. Hernadez dropped the communicator to the floor and smashed it with her heel. Marrissa continued to look straight forward, standing at attention.

Lieutenant Warwick was next. He ripped the rank strips off first her left, and then her right sleeve, leaving tattered and torn ends to the sleeve. The strips were thrown to the ground and ground with Warwick's heel along with the remains of her communicator.

Then it was Lieutenant Murdoch's turn. He opened Marrissa's uniform jacket and then grasp her uniform mock turtleneck. The maroon shirt ripped right along the shoulder and then down the side. He pulled off the indication of a command-qualified officer contemptuously ripping it again before throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. Marrissa's jacket now hung open, revealing her naked breasts. The force of the ripping off of her mock turtleneck had loosened her uniform pants which were starting to slip downwards.

Lieutenant Donner stepped in for one last humiliation, a slap across her face. Marrissa took it with tears flowing down her face. She remained standing at attention, though, even in a tattered uniform and with her pants slipping below her hips.

"Company, attention!" Donner ordered. All five Lieutenants stood in line. "Company, about face!" They turned away from Marrissa towards the door. "Company form ranks." The formed two by two behind Donner. "Forward March!" All five Lieutenants left at a steady pace, their boots beating like a slow drum.

Marrissa was left standing at attention, facing the door. Before her was her smashed communicator, her torn uniform shirt, and the ends of her sleeves. Her uniform jacket was open, off her shoulders, revealing her naked chest. As a sob escaped her redden hand-printed face, her uniform pants slipped down revealing her plain white panties. Tears flowed as she stood there, at attention, unwilling and unable to leave.

...

Captain T'Gwen Washington was on the Indefatigable for a Captain's Conference. Portinmire liked to have one a couple days before the convoy arrived, and after the battle a little reorganization was needed anyway. There were two new commanding officers, and the ships in the convoy had changed as well.

Washington liked the new commanding officers. Commander Parnic of the Warbird Sansanic seemed to be a confident sort, and his Warbird was equal if not better than the Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser they'd just defeated. Commander Luciani was now commanding the Sacagawea, and if he did half as well as he had as Portinmire's First Officer, they'd be in good shape.

Washington had arrived by shuttle, as Commander Luciani's painting was done and ready to take back to the Stargazer. It was bad luck to beam over the official ship's portrait. While Washington may not have believed in bad luck, she wasn't about to disobey the tradition.

She was now looking for Marrissa, as her duty on the Indefatigable was done. Lieutenant Pizarro had piloted her over, and she hoped Marrissa would take her back. Washington had barely passed for her pilot's licence at the Academy.

The computer had told her that Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard was in Cargo Bay Nine. It was an interior bay with no outside access. Washington couldn't think of a reason why she'd be there. Even with that puzzle in her mind, Washington was totally unprepared for what she found when the doors to Cargo Bay Nine opened up.

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard stood in the middle of the bay, tears streaming down her face. Her uniform jacket was open and torn, revealing her naked breasts. Her uniform pants had slid down to pool around her boots, and before her feet were the remains of her mock turtle and communicator. She was dropping to her knees.

Washington reached Marrissa's side and knelt next to the crying girl, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. "What happened, Marrissa?"

The tale poured out of Marrissa between sobs. It appeared that due to the actions of the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable, Washington's attempt at boosting Marrissa's self confidence was a complete failure.

"I want to go back to the Stargazer, now!" Marrissa said.

"We will do so as soon as you're attired appropriately again," Washington said, looking down at the remains of Marrissa's uniform mock turtle. "I think we'll have to declare this a total loss," she held up the torn front, "but take off the rest of it and zip up your jacket, and it won't matter."

Marrissa pulled up her pants, then removed her uniform jacket and the remains of her mock turtle. As she tossed the torn remnants she'd been wearing, the cargo bay doors opened, revealing Captain Portinmire. Marrissa immediately came to attention, standing up straight and saluting. Since she hadn't sealed her pants, they dropped down again. Washington turned to catch Portinmire's look as he saw the panty clad Lieutenant Commander salute.

The look on Portinmire's face was one of shock, at first, but it quickly disappeared. "I see we still have a problem with deportment," Portinmire said.

"More like we have some problems with your Lieutenants, Berganmister," Washington said, holding up the ruined mock turtle and crushed communicator. Her own face only showed hints of her deep disgust of the said Lieutenants, with the slightly furrowed brow.

Portinmire approached and took the ruined mock turtle. "It seems they wished to revive the old Marine Dishonorable Discharge Ceremony. Marrissa, at ease," he said, apparently noticing that she was still standing at attention, despite what seemed to be an assault. "Where are your rank pips?"

"They threw them somewhere over there, sir," Marrissa said, pointing to a pile of cargo containers.

"T'Gwen, let's start looking while the Lieutenant Commander dresses," Portinmire said. "There is a replicator over there behind the stack of phaser coil replacements over there, Lieutenant Commander. You should be able to get a replacement uniform from it."

Washington and Portinmire began to look for the rank pips. They didn't appear to be on the floor of the cargo bay. Washington climbed up on top of the pile of cargo containers and found the shiny hollow pip there. Her sharp eyes spotted another wedged between the containers halfway down.

By the time they'd moved the first container, Marrissa had gotten dressed. Washington heard the ping of the pip dropping to the ground. Washington ruthlessly surprised an urge to smile by long habit when Portinmire dropped a container on his foot as he heard that. "Damn!"

Marrissa approached as Portinmire extracted his foot. "Where can I look?" she asked.

"You're not looking anywhere, young lady," Portinmire said. "This is a Captain's duty at the moment. T'Gwen, did you see where it went?"

"It appears to have dropped further down," Washington said. Her left eyebrow rose slightly. "It's caught between two containers again. Perhaps we should try a different method this time."

"Metal rod?" Portinmire said, as Washington looked at some disassembled equipment.

"Just the thing," Washington said, pulling out one. She examined the location of the pip, closely, and made a few calculations. "Hold out your hands, Berganmister. If this works, it should go right into the palm of your hand." She placed the rod under the pip, and made her left hand the fulcrum. Down went the other end, and up went the pip, right into Portinmire's hand. It bounced off and rolled under a cargo container. "You were supposed to catch it."

Portinmire quickly moved the container, discovering the third pip was also under it. "Well, at least it enabled us to find the other one," he said, before approaching Marrissa. "Now, let's get these back where they belong. Raise your chin. These are staying on you this time." He placed them back on Marrissa's uniform, precisely lined up in exactly the prescribed placement. As he stood back from her, a smile flirted across his face.

Washington looked at Marrissa carefully before they departed the cargo bay. Her eyes were still tear-stained, and her face still had two hand prints on it, but now she stood erect and proud again. She marched out of the bay and towards the shuttle bay with a determined pace, easily keeping up with her Captain's longer stride.

T'Gwen Washington left Captain Portinmire behind in the cargo bay. He did not

accompany her and Marrissa as they departed, and she did not envy next task with the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable. Nor, she thought, would anyone envy the Lieutenants of the Indefatigable afterwards.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Captain Berganmister Portinmire had cleared all the other chairs from his office. He would be the only one sitting down at this Captain's Mast. Beside him stood his First Officer, back from his temporary command of the Dagger. He needed Antonio at his side for this, and had kept all five Lieutenants in the Brig until he'd come back.

All five were now waiting outside the Captain's Office, in full dress uniform. They were guarded by a dozen security officers. He had hopes that two days in the Brig would help adjust their attitude, but wasn't counting on it. "Commander Luciani, send in the first one," he ordered.

The door opened to reveal Lieutenant Justina Nunn. The Lieutenant stood straight, at attention, as Portinmire read the charges. "Lieutenant Justina Nunn, you have been brought before this Captain's Mast with the charges of participating in illegal hazing of an officer, showing disrespect for a superior officer, conduct detrimental to morale, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Do you have any words to say in your defense?"

"No, sir, there is no defense sir!" Nunn replied.

That reply surprised Portinmire. He'd expected something more on the lines of defiance. "Commander, what evidence do we have in Nunn's case?"

"Ship's sensors reveal that she was present in the cargo bay at the time of the incident," Luciani said, looking at his PADD. "Lieutenant Commander Picard has identified her as the one who ripped off her rank pips, but indicates that Nunn may have been a restraining force."

"Very well," Portinmire said, staring right at Nunn. "Lieutenant, I find you guilty as charged, but given your willingness to take your punishment, and the testimony given by Lieutenant Commander Picard, I am only sentencing you to and additional three days in the brig and assigning you to assist Engineering in picking up all the J-clips that have been dropped during repairs in Jefferies Tube Twenty-Five. Perhaps the latter will teach you not to throw small important items around. Commander?"

"Attention!" Luciani ordered. Nunn had slumped a little as the sentence had ended. She straightened up now. "About Face! Forward March!" Luciani directed Nunn out with a Drill Sargent's precision.

The next officer entered as soon as she was gone. "Lieutenant Constanza Hernadez, you have been brought before this Captain's Mast with the charges of participating in an illegal hazing of an officer, showing disrespect for a superior officer, destruction of Star Fleet equipment, conduct detrimental to morale, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Do have any words to say in your defense?"

"Yes, sir. I did nothing to a superior officer." Hernadez said defiantly.

That had been more what Portinmire had expected. "Commander, what evidence do we have in Hernadez's case."

"Ship's sensors reveal that she was present in the cargo bay at the time of the incident," Luciani said, looking at his PADD. "Lieutenant Commander Picard has identified her as the one who ripped off her communicator and ground it under her boot."

"Very well," Portinmire said, making eye contact with Hernadez. "Lieutenant, I find you guilty as charged. I am sentencing you to and additional three days in the brig, and a formal reprimand for conduct unbecoming will appear in your record. Commander?"

"Attention!" Luciani ordered. It really wasn't necessary in Hernadez's case, but forms must be followed. "About Face! Forward March!"

The next officer swaggered in. "Lieutenant Kenward Warwick, you have been brought before this Captain's Mast with the charges of participating in illegal hazing of an officer, striking a superior officer, conduct detrimental to morale, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Do you have any words to say in your defense."

Warwick said nothing, merely dropping to an at ease stance. Portinmire found the action to be quite galling. "Commander, what evidence do we have in Warwick's case?"

"Ship's sensors reveal that she was present in the cargo bay at the time of the incident," Luciani said, looking at his PADD. "Lieutenant Commander Picard has identified him as the one who ripped off her rank strips from her sleeves, and a scan of her face revealed the Lieutenant was one of two officers that had slapped her."

"I find no defense for these actions," Portinmire said, looking at the relaxed stance of the Lieutenant before him. "Furthermore, I find your deportment before this court to indicate a lack of understanding of the serious nature of a Captain's Mast. Therefore, I sentence you to an additional three days in the brig. A formal reprimand for conduct unbecoming will appear in your record. Commander?"

"Attention!" Luciani ordered. The volume that Luciani had put behind the order caused Warwick to snap to attention. "About Face! Forward March!"

The next-to-last Lieutenant practically stomped in. His hefty nature was no doubt part of the reason, but it indicated a defiance that Portinmire was prepared to deal with. Murdoch didn't meet his glare.

Luciani read from his PADD, "Lieutenant Nicodim Murdoch, you have been brought before this Captain's Mast with the charges of participating in illegal hazing of an officer, assault on a superior officer, conduct detrimental to morale, and conduct unbecoming an officer. Do you have any words to say in your defense?"

"She's just a little girl, why all the fuss?" Murdoch said, causually.

"That little girl holds a Captain Pike Metal for Valor," Portinmire snapped, but brought himself back under control. He was beginning to think the rumors that Murdoch had gotten into some bad Engineering hooch were true. "Commander, what evidence do we have in Murdoch's case?"

"Ship's sensors reveal that she was present in the cargo bay at the time of the incident," Luciani said, looking at his PADD. "Lieutenant Commander Picard has identified him as the one who ripped off her uniform shirt, causing her pants to fall down."

"Very well," Portinmire said looking at the solid stocky form of Murdoch. "I find you guilty of all charges, and sentence you to the maximum sentence I am allowed without calling for a formal court martial. Ten days in the brig. You shall incur no seniority while under sentence. A reprimand for conduct detrimental and another for conduct unbecoming will be entered into your record. Commander?

"Attention!" Luciani ordered. Murdoch lazily moved into the proper stance. "About Face! Forward March!"

The last Lieutenant to enter was the one that Portinmire was the most disappointed in. He'd also been identified as the ring leader. Portinmire had seen the Lieutenant as an officer with a brilliant career ahead of him.

A glace at Commander Luciani revealed look of great disappointment as he read out the charges. "Lieutenant Balyse Donner, you have been called before this Captain's Mast with the charges of organizing and participating in illegal hazing of an officer, striking a superior officer, conduct detrimental to morale, and conduct unbecoming of an officer. Do you have any words to say in your defense?"

"Yes sir. I have spent the last two days reflecting on my actions," Donner said. "I have come to the conclusion that my actions are indefensible."

Something about the Lieutenant made Portinmire think he wasn't sincere at all. He couldn't prove it, though. "Commander, what evidence do we have in Donner's case?"

"Ship's sensors reveal that she was present in the cargo bay at the time of the incident," Luciani said, looking at his PADD. "Lieutenant Commander Picard has identified him as the person in charge of the hazing. A scan of her face revealed the Lieutenant was one of two officers that had slapped her. Furthermore, the Lieutenant's hard copy of 'Ceremonies of Dishonor' was recently annotated on the ceremony used."

"I see," Portinmire said. He was familiar with the work. It had been required reading when he was taking Tactics 310 at the Academy. He looked straight into Donner's eyes. He saw Donner flinch back a little. "I find you guilty, Lieutenant, and sentence you to ten days in the brig. A reprimand for conduct unbecoming will be entered into your record. We will be reevaluating your assignments on the Indefatigable. Commander?"

"Attention!" Luciani said. It was an unnecessary command. "About Face! Forward March!"

Captain Portinmire sat there for a while, wondering where he'd gone wrong. Over the last three days he'd found six of his Command Line Lieutenants to have serious lacks in judgement. He blamed himself for not finding out earlier. He blamed himself for bringing a promising officer into what in hindsight was an unstable and stressful situation which she never should have been in.

After a few minutes he looked up at his First Officer. "Where did we go wrong, Antonio?"

"I don't think we'll ever know, Captain," Luciani said. "I still think we can salvage them, but they've made it very hard for us. Perhaps this bitter pill will teach them to think before acting on their prejudices."

"We can hope," Portinmire said. "Any word from Star Fleet on replacement ships for the squadron?"

"We're getting a Medium Cruiser Division, but no word yet on replacement units for our Light Cruisers," Luciani replied.

"That means we're going to need some sims to work them into our Squadron," Portinmire said, putting away the PADDs. "And I know just the person to play OpFor Commander."

...

Captain Washington had summoned Lieutenant Pizarro to her ready room for a final evaluation. With Marrissa back, and on duty, the Stargazer's command team was back to normal. Unlike his initial visit to her domain, she hadn't invited anyone else.

Pizarro didn't appear to be looking forward to the interview. He moved into the room tentatively, hesitating as Washington directed him to a chair. Washington decided to start up with something unrelated to his performance, at least as an officer

"Bertin, I must compliment you on your choice of music for the Yellow Wing Memorial Service," Washington said. The piece he'd played on his flute with the back up of the Indefatigable's string quartet had been a poignant tune that had dragged the grief out of everyone in attendance. She'd had a hard time maintaining the stoic face which was expected from her race. "It was a welcome change from the traditional Amazing Grace. I've long felt that Amazing Grace was much over used, especially when there are no remains. May I inquire as to the title and author of the composition?"

"It was Samuel Barber's Adagio for Strings, sir," Pizarro said. "Jay said that Marrissa had been listening to it, and since I and the Indefatigable Strings knew the piece, I decided to bring it up instead."

"A most appropriate piece, Bertin, and you did a good job arranging the memorial service," Washington said. "Kasumi was most appreciative of the way you honored her brother and wingmates. She asked me to pass it along to you."

"I was just doing my duty, Captain," Pizarro said, beginning to relax a little in his seat. "How is Ensign Akabayshi?"

"She won't be Ensign much longer," Washington said. She almost had a hint of a smile. "Her promotion papers are on their way. Kasumi appears to be handling the loss fairly well. Humans do tend to take a while to recover from losses, but I believe in time she will recover."

"That's good to hear, Captain," Pizarro said.

"I have heard nothing but good words about your performance on the Stargazer the last few days," Washington said. "Chief Quimby was impressed with how well you handled working with his command."

"I simply did what you told me, Captain," Pizarro said, his tone dismissive of his efforts.

"Bertin, I just pointed you in the right direction," Washington said. "I did not tell you to take charge in the Fighter Bay during the return of the fighters. You managed to get all the fighters back into place in near record time, despite the fact that three of the fighters were stopped in the middle of the bay. You kept the majority of the fighter pilots away from Kasumi as Mikor and T'Par took care of her and organized the wing seconds to begin post-flight activities as the Wing Leaders were busy. None of this was listed in your assigned duties. You were there for other reasons and showed initiative beyond what was required of you. You volunteered to handle the memorial service, and did a fine job with it, as well. For these reasons, I have decided to add a commendation to your record, and have let Captain Portinmire know just how well you preformed on board the Stargazer in the strongest possible terms."

"Thank you, sir," Pizarro said. It was obvious that Pizarro had not expected such a glowing review. He was blushing.

"Captain Portinmire was quite surprised that you turned out so well on the Stargazer," Washington said. "That, of course, could have had something to do with how the other half of the exchange went. I believe you're aware of recent events on your home ship?"

"I am," Pizarro's mouth moved to a thin straight line.

"Captain Portinmire will have a new assignment for you when you return to the Indefatigable," Washington said, standing. "While I may not reveal its nature to you, I believe you'll excel in it. It has been an honor to have you in my command, Bertin."

Bertin stood and shook her proffered hand. "It has been an honor serving you, Captain." At the gesture of dismissal, he began to leave the room. He stopped for a moment though to ask one question. "Captain, may I ask how Lieutenant Commander Picard is?"

"If the sound of her shower is any indication, she'll be feeling a lot better soon," Washington said. "Jay and I will be watching her. I believe she'll bounce back from her experience on the Indefatigable. Marrissa is rather resilient."

Pizarro nodded, and turned to exit the Captain's Ready Room with a definite swagger to his step.

...

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard exited her shower, tying her robe. She believed it was unlikely that she'd be called to duty soon, as the Stargazer was currently moored off Starbase 375. So, she could for once relax in her silk robe, relax and recover on her comfortable bed, while listening to Pachabel's Canon in D.

Her week had been the week from Hell. The assignment on the Indefatigable hadn't really been that bad, in itself. She'd actually enjoyed talking with Sub-commander Saavik. Living on the Indefatigable had been the real problem. The Lieutenants on that ship had to be the worst officers that Marrissa had ever encountered.

She shuddered as she recalled their little ceremony. Commander Luciani had made her go over that over and over again. When he'd left, she'd told him that she didn't want to know the results. Marrissa could do without seeing those Lieutenants ever again.

It hadn't been all bad, though, even if the bed had been the most uncomfortable place she'd slept in since that chase lounge when she was twelve. Jay had given her one of his really good massages. Portinmire had told her that she had done a good job. Her Saber Dance Routine had even managed to get a good reception, though she had injured herself on the second routine.

She was so glad she was back on the Stargazer again. It had become her home, her first place alone, away from her parents. She was almost sixteen now. It wasn't an age that a girl was expected to be on her own, but Marrissa was. She was alone. She was all alone facing a hostile world that seemed to be devoted to crushing her. No one was there to help her, to say that everything would be okay.

Marrissa slumped against the structural member that was by the left side of her window, and allowed tears to go down her face again. An Excelsior Class Starship was going by, just like the Indefatigable, the ship whose crew had been so bad to her. A deep sob escaped her, and she slid to the floor.

...

Lieutenant Jay Gordon had just finished all of the paperwork that came with new transfers to the Stargazer, and now was walking to see Marrissa. He had only himself for the late hour. He wanted the best Squadron of Fighter Pilots in the Fleet, so he'd gone the extra mile, especially for the new Yellow Wing. Lieutenant Matt Grubb, the Fighter Commander on the Victory had suggested the plan and gotten the Hathaway's Fighter Commander to join in. The Commandant on Essex had been eager to send his top two graduates to join Yellow Wing as well.

Jay was sure that the newly promoted Lieutenant (junior grade) Kasumi Akabayshi would soon have one of the best, if not the best, wings on the Stargazer. Jinn, Mishra, Jaehwa, and Sin all had good records from the Victory and the Hathaway. The two new ones from Essex were untested, but if there were problems, Jay wasn't above switching pilots around.

He'd had to do it a lot when Purple, Yellow, Black, and Orange were forming up at the beginning of his command. Yellow had a core of four that had remained from the original assignment along the DMZ, but it took a while before all of Akabayshi's Kami had been found. The Kami . . . Jay had wondered about the meaning of that word. Most of the fighter pilots on the Stargazer had the brash charge into danger attitude that early wet navy fighter pilots on many planets usually had. It was something that most of the Fighter Commanders believed was essential to the job. Until he found out the meaning of Kami, he'd thought that Yellow Wing as a whole did not have it. However, any group of pilots who considered themselves gods, or at least divine had that brash attitude.

Jay already missed the six late members of Yellow Wing. He would have stopped by the Yellow Wing Common Room to see how Kasumi was doing, but he'd seen T'Par entering with buckets of paint. He had no idea what Green Leader and Kasumi were doing with red and gold paint, but he didn't think he wanted to be involved.

So, he reached Marrissa's quarters. She didn't respond to the door's chime's, but after a couple minutes, Marrissa's programmed override kicked in, and the door opened for him. He swiftly entered the office room, which was empty. Marrissa apparently wasn't using her usual drown herself in work technique

The door slid open to Marrissa's main room. He could see the open door to her bathroom, the mirror still steamed. His gaze moved from the bath to her empty bed, and then to the table before finally spotting her slumped up against the support next to her window. Her hair was still damp and limp, and a tear was running down her face from her left eye. Jay moved to her side. Vivaldi's Four Season: La Primavera was playing.

"I thought you said you were done crying for the month," Jay said, kneeling next to her.

"I thought I was," Marrissa said, sniffing and wiping the tear from her face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jay asked as Marrissa moved like she was going to stand up. He stood up first, and provided her a hand up.

"Not really," Marrissa said. "I just want to forget about the last week."

"I don't blame you for that," Jay said. "I'm glad I've never had to face anything like those Lieutenants."

"You get along with everyone so well they'd never think about doing something like that to you," Marrissa said stretching. "Ow. Doctor Johnson swore there was nothing wrong with my back after last night's performance . . . I think he was lying."

"Distracting me isn't going to work, Marrissa," Jay said, his tone flat. "I know that the Indefatigable hurt you, not your Saber Dance routine last night." She'd done the routine in the middle of the Fighter Bay at the fighter pilots requests. Jay had instigated it in order to get her out of her quarters.

"You mean you won't give me another back rub," Marrissa said, pouting slightly. Jay remained straight faced as Marrissa sat down on the bed. "Okay, it hurt me. I've never felt so unsure and depressed as after that damned 'dishonorable discharge ceremony' that those Lieutenants put me through. I work hard to be the best I can be in everything I do, Jay, but if you'll pardon the pun, I'm not Indefatigable."

Jay moved to sit behind Marrissa on the bed and began to rub her tense shoulders. "Go on," Jay said, tapping his communicator thrice. His set of oils materialized on Marrissa's bedside table.

"Just once, Jay, just once, I'd like to go on a ship and be complimented for what I did from both those over me, and those under me," Marrissa said, moaning at the end as Jay massaged out a particularly bad knot. "It's an uphill battle every time I meet someone new. They take one look at me, deduce my age, and it's all over. I practically have to save their life in order to get any respect. Why is it Jay? Would anyone be better if I wasn't here?"

"Lay down," Jay ordered, after taking her robe off, so he could massage her back better. "I don't think so, Marrissa." She laid down on her stomach, and Jay placed her robe to cover her bare behind. "Someone else would be First Officer here, but that wouldn't mean that they'd be better off. We've gone over the ranks and officer thing too often anyway."

Jay dipped his fingers in his medium oil before continuing. "You're a good person, Marrissa. You're always there to help someone when they need it. You don't do things for people, but you help them along. You're always there for me, and any of your friends. Even someone that others wouldn't think to help, you do. Dukat may have been subdued in his thanks, but no one can deny that if it wasn't for you he'd be in jail right now, not a Star Fleet Officer fighting for what he believes in."

"You never seem to let people down, or get discouraged, at least in public," Jay said rubbing down her spine. "You have no idea how much the pilots look up to you for that. You've been their inspiration, their rock in the midst of troubles. They know that events like that on the Indefatigable must have hurt you, but you still go on. Most think they would have resigned after that ceremony. However, Marrissa, you came back here. Your face may have been streaked with tears, but you immediately reported for duty and stood watch for a full shift. Everyone knew you didn't have to, but you did."

"It's very hard to find an crewman or officer on this ship who doesn't respect you," Jay said, rubbing her lower back. He probably could find a few, but he wouldn't tell Marrissa that. "I know I do. I wouldn't be here without you. I'm not speaking about my posting, or even being an officer. I'm from a Fleet Family, those would have probably happened in time. Without you, I wouldn't have a goal, an inspiration, a reason to serve. Duty is all well and good, but to be a really good officer, or person, it takes more. You challenge me to be a better person every day, by just doing what you do. I know I'm not the only one. Clara, Alexander, Dukat, Kasumi, they've all told me the same."

"Really?" Marrissa asked.

"Yes, they have," Jay said. Of course, he'd had to think to come up with that list. For almost ten minutes he rubbed the oil gently into her back as Vivaldi's Four Season's L'Estate played.

"Thank you," Marrissa said, as the piece finally ended. She soon slipped into sleep. Jay finished his work, then covered Marrissa gently with her sheet, turned off the music, and dimmed the lights. He took one last glace at the sleeping girl before slipping out, leaving a single red rose on her desk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Berganmister Portinmire fingered the rank insignia on the right side of his collar. It was going to take some getting used to having it on both sides. It was one of many changes he was adjusting to. He placed the last of his PADDs in the crate. He was going to miss this office on the Indefatigable, but as a Commodore he needed to place his flag on his squadron's principal ship, the Carrier Stargazer.

He took one last look before turning to exit the office. The Indefatigable's new Captain stood waiting outside the door. "Antonio, the room is yours now, but I want the chair shipped over to the Stargazer," Portinmire said. "I'm not giving up the most comfortable chair in the fleet."

"It will be waiting in your new office on the Stargazer," Luciani said, as they began to walk together to the transporter room. "May I say that I never expected this."

"Antonio, you've deserved a command for over a decade, maybe more," Portinmire said. "I really should have pushed you into the center seat a lot earlier, but you've always been my reliable right-hand man. I've been loathe to have to look for a new number one when you seemed perfectly willing to stay where you were."

"I was, sir," Luciani said. "Not that I'm not honored and willing to succeed you here."

"It's a tough job," Portimire said. "Command is a different animal to being First Officer, but you've got a good staff. True, you are inheriting the Lieutenant problem, but I think you can handle it."

"It would be a little easier if you weren't stealing Pizarro for your Flag Lieutenant," Luciani smiled. "Not that I don't think he deserves the job. He's been very good for our Command Track Ensigns in the week since he came back from the Stargazer. I don't know who I'll find to replace him."

"Look in Engineering," Portinmire advised, as they entered the Transporter Room. "There might be a couple there worth something until the Indefatigable can get some fresh ones. They may not be command track, but they don't have to be."

"I'll look into it, sir," Luciani said, as Portinmire moved to stand on the platform.

"It has been an honor serving as your Captain, Antonio," Portinmire said. "One to beam to the Stargazer. Chief, Permission to disembark, Captain?"

"Permission granted, Commodore," Luciani said. "Godspeed. Energize."

The transporter room of the Excelsior Class Starship dissolved and reformed into the smaller one on the Stargazer. Captain Washington and Lieutenant Pizarro were standing in front of the console, waiting. Off to the side was a petty officer, raising the bosun's whistle to his lips. The two tone welcome rang out before he spoke.

"Permission to come aboard, Captain?" Portinmire asked.

"Permission granted, sir," Washington said. "Welcome to the Stargazer."

Portinmire took the single step down from the platform, and approached the two. "How are the modifications going, Captain?"

"Nine more hours, and it will be done. I've had your Flag Lieutenant informed as to the details," Washington said as they walked out of the Transporter Room.

"Lieutenant, status update on my Squadron?" Portinmire ordered. "Captain, I'll see you at dinner, perhaps." Washington took a side corridor as Portinmire and Pizarro headed towards his new office.

"Most of the Meduim Cruiser division has now arrived," Pizarro informed. "The Phoenix was delayed due to a plasma transfer conduit malfunction, but the Zhu Rong and the Pele have joined the Prometheus here already. Our new Light Cruisers, no ETA yet on the Kukri, the Stiletto is due in at 1900 hours, and the Rapier arrived two minutes ago. Captain Kant of the Pele has requested permission to report aboard."

"We got Kant? Gregory Kant?" Portinmire asked. "What happened to Captain Thak?"

"He apparently died last week," Pizarro said. "Admiral Necheyev assigned Kant to take his place on the Pele before sending the Pele to us."

"Give me some good news," Portinmire ordered, coming to a halt in front of his new conference room and office.

"Lieutenant Commander Picard has turned in six sims, that she said you requested," Pizarro said, trying to find something good on the list.

"Six? I asked for three," Portinmire said, opening the door. The conference room was set up, but its walls were still the peeling gray of a well-used storage room. "Put a paint job for this room on the to-do-list. See if there are any muralists on board. If there aren't talk to Captain Luciani to see if he knows of someone who can provide me with some old American War paintings."

"May I ask, why American, sir?" Pizarro said.

"Because the old American War Paintings are gritty, un glorified depictions of the type of combat which doesn't tend to occur in Star Fleet," Portinmire said, entering the room. He ran his finger over the edge of the brand new conference table. It was squeaky clean. "We're too bound in the clean fire of ship versus ship, not realizing the entrails of war that seep from the wounds we inflict. War is not clean, Lieutenant. It doesn't consist of perfect charges into battle. It's gritty, dirty, and haphazard. It's best we remember that."

Pizarro followed Portinmire in. There was silence for a while as Portinmire examined the room. "I'll see to it, Commodore," Pizarro said, after a moment. "I have a note from Admiral Ross that he'll be on board at 2100 to present the Medal of Valor to Yellow Wing. Lieutenant Gordon wants to know if you'll be present."

"I will, and ask all the Commanding Officers in the Squadron to attend," Portinmire said. The presentation could make his new Captains realize his expectations of them. "Schedule our first sim for an hour after we're done. Make sure that Lieutenant Commander Picard has somewhere to serve as OpFor commander. Ask Captain Luciani to send three of the Indefatigable's Command Track Ensigns to assist her. Picard, Gordon, and you will prepare post sim analysts. Do not mention who the OpFor commander is to anyone, save Captain Washington. I'll see you at the presentation, unless there is anything urgent."

"Not that the moment, sir," Pizarro said.

"Then, dismissed, Lieutenant," Portinmire said, as he opened the far door from the conference room. It was his office. As his Flag Lieutenant left, he went to sit in his chair. It was a darn good chair.

...

Jay surveyed the crowd arranged in the Stargazer's fighter bay. Besides Admiral Ross, who would pin the award, there were three other Admirals. Commodore Portinmire and the Stargazer Squadron's Commanding Officers were seated next to them, filling that row and the one behind it. His fellow Fighter Commanders were flanking him, as he walked up to the podium. All of the fighter pilots, and a fair amount of the rest of the crew were seated in the twelve rows of chairs arrayed in front of the podium.

Behind the podium stood fifteen security officers in dress whites, with sheathed sabers perfectly up right left hand resting on their pommels, standing at unmoving attention. Behind them was the sole surviving Yellow Wing Fighter. Everything was arranged perfectly for the cameras, and Jay hoped that the reporters on the upper Fighter Storage row wouldn't spot his nervousness, or worse, record it. He stepped up behind the podium.

"Two days ago, we gathered aboard this ship, in a room just to the port of here to mourn the lost of one of the Stargazer's best units, nearly wiped out in a single act of bravery," Jay began. "Today we gather here to honor them. Akabayshi, Chin, Nguyen, Fukamori, Asamizu, Kobayshi ... six names ... six honored dead, and one honored survivor. Admiral Ross?"

The stout Admiral took Jay's place at the podium, as Jay moved to stand beside the closed presentation case. "We're gathered here not just to honor the seven members of Yellow Wing Individually," Admiral Ross said, "but to honor the unit itself. A unit citation is generally given in Star Fleet to a ship, rarely to another type of group. Today, however, we break that to honor specifically a unit that gave of itself the last full measure of devotion. So it is with great honor that I present to the Yellow Wing of the Carrier USS Stargazer, the Captain Pike Medal of Honor, not just as individuals, but as a Fighter Wing. I ask that Ensign Kasumi Akabayshi, as last surviving member of Yellow Wing, and the sister of its late Wing Leader please step forward.

Jay watched as Kasumi walked up, with parade precision, from her seat behind the Admirals and Captains. Her head was held high, and her tears barely held back. She came to a stop with a sharp scuff of her boots, standing at attention. Jay stood next to the Admiral, opening the case. A smaller glass case with the unit citation award incased in it lay in the center of it, with seven more Captain Pike Medals arrayed around it on red velvet. At the bottom was a single black rank pip.

"Ensign Kasumi Akabayshi, on behalf of your unit, will you accept this honor?" Admiral Ross said, picking up the small glass case.

Kasumi crossed her palms in front of her. "On behalf of my brother's unit, and on his behalf, I accept this honor, and can only hope that I may serve the remainder of my career in as honorable fashion as he did." Admiral Ross laid the case in Kasumi's open hands. He then picked up another medal and pinned it to her breast, just below her wings on the dress whites.

Admiral Ross then stepped aside, and Captain Washington took his place. "Kasumi Akabayshi, it is my honor to bestow upon you the rank of Lieutenant junior grade," Washington said, picking up the pip and placing it on her collar.

Jay closed the case, and took to the podium again. When Kasumi began to return to her seat, following the Captain and Admiral, he stopped her. "Lieutenant, your duty this day is not yet done. Front and center, please."

"While others looked to honor the deeds of the past for Yellow Wing, it is my job to look to its future," Jay said, after taking a deep breath. "Such a unit should not, can not, lay fallow, without anyone to continue its traditions, to extend the honor of Ichiro Akabayshi's Kami. And who better to lead that, to extend the honor, than his younger sister, Kasumi. Effective immediately, I am assigning Lieutenant Kasumi Akabayshi as Yellow Leader, the second Yellow Wing Commander." A round of applause interrupted his announcement.

"But, a good wing must have good wingmates," he continued once the clapping had died down. "I can not assign just anyone to such a unit. Fortunately, I do not have to. My two fellow Fighter Commanders, Lieutenant Matthew Grubb of the Victory and Lieutenant Jirani of the Hathaway, have chosen to give me two of their best each, and the Combatant of Essex Fighter Academy has given me the two top graduates of his latest class."

As Jay announced them, each of the officers entered from behind a fighter craft. "From the Victory, to serve as Wing Second, Ensign Gan Jinn; Also from the Victory, Ensign Kwan Jaehwa; From the Hathaway, Ensigns Ayanna Mishra and Rosario Sin; and newly graduated one and two in their class, Ensigns Hitoshi Nelson and Navas Syres. These young officers will have the duty of carrying on the honor and legacy of Yellow Wing. For them, it is an honor. The glory remains with Akabayshi, Chin, Nguyen, Fukamori, Asamizu, and Kobayshi."

Jay stepped back from the podium, and Lieutenant Ross Lochard stepped forward from the stationary security officers. "Company! Present arms." In unison, all fourteen officers drew their swords, thrusting forward to maximum extension, before bringing them back to rest perfectly vertical, against their shoulders. "Form escort." Ross ordered. His officers formed two columns on either side of the center row, and turned to face the center. Ross drew his own sword and rested it neatly centered in front of him, his hands folded over the pommel.

"Yellow Wing. The Security Officers of the Stargazer Squadron wish to honor you with an escort to your quarters," Lieutenant Ross Lochard announced.

"The honor is yours, as our worthiness only stands on the backs of our predecessors," Kasumi said.

"We bestow our honor where it is deserving, Yellow Leader," Lochard said. With that he raised his sword and took his place at the head of the columns. Yellow Wing quickly formed up on the inside, swordsman on each side of each officer. With the steady beat of their feet, they marched out of the Fighter Bay.

Jay took a side exit as soon as they disappeared out the main bay doors. They would be escorted around deck seven the long way, and he had to be waiting at the door of the Yellow Wing Barracks. He barely made it.

The escort disbanded at the door, leaving the six new wingmates standing in front of the door, their Wing Leader and Fighter Commander flanking it. "Welcome to your new quarters. Assignment to rooms is by mutual consent," Jay said. "Lieutenant?"

"Follow me," Kasumi said, entering the room. Everyone took a moment to look around once they entered.

The far wall was no longer silver, but a deep red, and appeared to be composed of painted wooden planks, fitted tightly together. In the center were two Japanese Kanji, painted in gold, with the words "Yellow Wing" written in white below them. Under that were six more sets of Kanji, which Jay recognized as being that of the deceased members of Yellow Wing.

"This wall contains a list of our honored predecessors," Kasumi said. "It serves to honor them, and to remind us that honor, is something that is like paint, it can be stripped away. This wall may look like wooden planking, painted red, but it is just paint. The wall is metal, just like any other wall. We serve in an honored unit, which we should never forget. However we should also never forget that our honor is their honor, not our own, and we are not worthy to tarnish that honor. Someday, other names will join those written in gold on the blood red of their sacrifice. May it not be soon."

Kasumi lapsed into silence. In that silence, Jay somehow left the room, without making a sound. The day of tribute was over for him.

...

Captain T'Gwen Washington stood on the Stargazer's new Flag Bridge, looking out the window down to the fighter bay. She could see the new fighter craft arriving. It looked like they'd managed to score all Essex 10-Cs this time. She counted as they entered, sixteen of them. That would bring them up to seven spares, even after Jay implemented his eighth wing plan. Some Dominion Battle Group was going to be surprised by those extra seven fighters exiting the Stargazer's bays, especially since the poor performance of Orange Wing in the past had led to speculation that the Stargazer was a wing down to start.

This was not where Washington had expected to be. The Stargazer was her second command, her first being the underpowered Science Frigate Miranda. It was true that when the Miranda had been launched, she'd been considered a medium cruiser, but as her hull number would attest, NCC-1800, she wasn't far removed from Kirk's Enterprise, construction wise. By the time Washington had taken her over, she hadn't had a weapons upgrade in four decades, and a good percentage of what weapons she had originally been outfitted with had been stripped out for additional sensor palettes. She was, at her heart, a Scientist, trained to command a vessel dedicated for that purpose.

How her name had come up to command a converted Carrier, a vessel of war, she'd never really figured out. Admiral Necheyev had said they wanted a level head to command the Stargazer back when she was a joint operations carrier with the Cardassians. Washington supposed that she fit that, but at the time she had very little tactical instinct.

Natural tactical talent was the phrase she'd been looking for as in Fighter Commander and Second Officer. She lacked it, so Washington had been determined to find the person with the best such instincts to study at close range. Her choices had been somewhat limited. There were only thirty-three officers who had completed the Fighter Command Training Course at Star Fleet's Essex Fighter Academy. Nine of them had been too low ranked to fill the post, though Jay Gordon would step into the role later. One had outranked Washington, and now commanded the Stargazer's sister ship, the Hathaway. Another ten were unavailable for various reasons. That left thirteen names, all Lieutenants. Marrissa had actually been Washington's third choice, but on in hindsight should have been the first.

Washington looked down at the controls by the window. Even with its Flag Bridge role, the room would still have to handle some of its former fighter bay control functions. The panel listed all the fighter craft with their status. At the top of the list was Marrissa's personal fighter craft, Sweet Success. The name of the fighter was a perfect descriptor for Washington's performance in the just completed simulated drill. She had managed to command the last surviving ship in what she was sure was the most grueling first simulated training battle a squadron had suffered in history.

It was assured that the analysis that was going on right now would give Washington a good dozen or so things she had done wrong, but she'd done it on her own with no coaching or help from either of her tactical gurus. Finally, she was beginning to feel comfortable with her tactical senses, no longer just going through the motions that duty had compelled her to take on.

There were no illusions of glory, Washington knew she'd never be a Nelson, Nimitz or Kirk. She took command of the Stargazer because it was her duty. Duty was something that shouldn't be easy. It had to be worked on. Duty was why Marrissa was still standing watches after her experience on the Indefatigable. Duty was why Portinmire had given up command of a ship that Washington knew he loved to command for command of a Squadron. Duty was why this room was now the command nexus of a squadron ready to go into battle.

Duty was Washington's life now, and its meaning had changed so much since she'd left the center seat of the Miranda. The Federation was at war. Scientific fascination would wait, for now.

"Bridge to Captain Washington," a familiar voice said over her combadge.

"Washington, what can I do for you, Usagi?" She'd put the Purple Leader in the center seat as part of a rotation through the Wing Leaders while the Squadron was still at the Star Base. It was a good time to see how young officers handled the bridge. Usagi had been one of the more nervous when she'd gotten the call.

"You asked to be informed when the last Captain had arrived. Captain Luciani arrived via shuttle craft in the lower bay a minute ago."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll make sure that Jay comes up to relieve you immediately following the meeting. Washington out." As the door opened for her exit from the Flag Bridge, she though that it would be interesting to see if any of the other Captains had figured out exactly who the Commodore had running the OpFor. It was time to see just where she went wrong.

...

Lieutenant Commander Marrissa Picard arrived just a little bit early to the post-sim debriefing. Her analysis of the forces she'd destroyed as OpFor Commander was already done, and turned in. She'd hoped to avoid presenting its high points, but Commodore Portinmire had insisted that she do so, even though she wasn't going to be identified as OpFor Commander.

Most of the Captains she had defeated hadn't ever gone up against her before. In fact, only Captain Washington had ever been on the opposing side of a sim from her. Washington had taken shameless advantage of her fore-knowledge of who was OpFor Commander, and ruined a couple really good tactics that Marrissa had tried on the Squadron. Fortunately, the Flag Captain had been severely hampered be the lack of coordination on the Squadron's part, and Marrissa's call for her third wave had done the Stargazer in.

Captain Luciani entered the room, carrying two paintings. He was the last Captain to arrive. Portinmire took the paintings from the Captain, and hung them on the wall. They appeared to be pictures of old gunpowder battles on Earth. Then he turned around and addressed the captains in his squadron. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I haven't seen so little coordination between ships in a sim since my first in Tactics 310," Portinmire said, standing behind his chair at the head of the table. "Now, I do realize that it was our first, and traditionally that one is a no-win, no-holds-barred fight against the best OpFor Commander the Squadron Commander can find. This was that. Still, there are no excuses for a few moves I saw. Lieutenant Commander Picard has outlined the good, the bad, and the ugly moves seen in this sim. Commander?"

"Thank you, Commodore," Marrissa said, standing up from her seat behind Captain Washington. Portinmire took his seat, folding his arms across his chest as Marrissa proceeded to the large view screen at the end of the table, opposite Portinmire. "We'll start with the formation issues. The Commodore deployed Division 3, our medium cruiser division at point, in front of the convoy. This division chose a diamond formation, which did not turn out to be a good initial position. Division 2, our light cruisers, were deployed to guard our flanks, and split two on two. Division 1, our mixed division, was deployed right around the convoy itself, with the Stargazer taking rear, and the Indefatigable just above the convoy. Our Intrepid Class Starships covered the lower half of our formation."

The image on the screen highlighted the rear ship of Division 3. "Much of the early problems in the sim are related to the Pele and her position. When the sighting of the first Jem'Hadar Attack Ships occurred, the Pele was blocked in by her division mates, and the Indefatigable. She did have a route out, towards the bottom of the formation, relative to the galactic plane. Unfortunately, she didn't take that route. Time index sixty-four, the Pele attempted a short range warp jump towards the targets designated Alpha One through Six."

Marrissa had been wondering what was going through Captain Kant's mind when he made that order, and overruled his First Officer and Helmsman's objections. It had to be the worst move she'd ever seen anyone take, especially as an opening move. The Warp Field of the Pele had entirely destroyed the Indefatigable.

"Time index seventy-two, the convoy scattered to avoid the explosion of the Pele and Indefatigable. Alpha One and Two have set their sights on the Wayfarer. The Stiletto alters course to go after Alpha One and Two, as does the Zhu Rong. The Stargazer details Blue Wing to go after the Wayfarer and guide her back to wear the rest of the convoy is reforming."

Marrissa pointed out another ship. "Everyone seems to have forgotten the Antimatter Tanker Einsteinium, however. So at time index eighty-three, when Beta One though Three arrive, she's a sitting duck." The Einsteinium was a ship currently in mothballs that had been built way beyond the Federation's need. Thac's Folly could hold a year's worth of the entire Federation's antimatter production. The Einsteinium icon winked out.

Marrissa continued with her explanation of the battle, through the loss of the Rapier by antimatter pods from the Einsteinium. The Crocket was lost to enemy fire. It wasn't a very challenging section of the battle, as the earlier mistakes had made her job almost too easy. Then Captain Washington provided the first glimmer of challenge.

"Alpha Three and Five were working together to get rid of both of our Intrepids, however, at time index one thirty-seven, Captain Washington deployed Green Wing, and took the Stargazer in on a close pass as well," Marrissa said, pointing out several different forces. "Both Alpha Three and Five were destroyed, with only some fighter losses." She'd been somewhat unprepared for Washington's move. It had been the first time someone had gotten the better of her in the sim. It had been a relief.

The Gamma targets were highlighted now, having closed in on the Phoenix. "Time index one forty-two. Gamma One through Five open fire on the Phoenix. The Phoenix attempts multi-vector attack mode. It is disrupted almost immediately by Gamma Three making a suicide run on the lower section. The Phoenix is completely destroyed without firing a single shot."

"Captain Granish, please remember not to let them get so close next time," Portinmire said. "And note that the Phoenix's destruction was when the Gamma targets were spotted for the first time, save on the Stargazer whose Tactical Officer reported them to its Captain at time index one thirty-five."

This bit of brilliance was followed by more bad moves by the other Captains. The Phoenix's multi-vector attack mode was neutralized by a suicide run by a Jem'Hadar that shouldn't have been allowed to get that close. The Zho Rong ended up embedded in an asteroid.

"Halfway point of the exercise, who made it?" Portinmire asked.

"At this point, we still have the Stargazer, the Sacagawea, the Dagger, the Prometheus, and the Kukri," Marrissa said, looking down at her PADD.

"Carry on," Portinmire said. Marrissa was glad she wasn't one of the Captains that hadn't made it. She had just noticed that as she announced a ship being lost, Portinmire was staring right at the commanding officer of that vessel. It was one of those intense stares of disappointment that you didn't want directed at you.

"Time index one seventy-six," Marrissa picked up, as the screen highlighted the Beta Targets and the Prometheus. "The Prometheus has come under heavy fire, and requests assistance." Two more ships are highlighted, as well as two in the convoy. "The Kurki and the Dagger have formed up together and respond. The Beta Targets are destroyed. However, this left these two exposed and those cargo ships were lost." Marrissa really didn't blame the Kurki and Dagger for the loss. The cargo ships were low priority as targets went, unlike the Einsteinium. Plus, saving the Prometheus helped out later.

She went on to describe the losses of two of the Stargazer's Fighter Wings, the Sacagawea, and a congo ship by her fourth wave of Jem'Hadar. They apparently had been ignored if they'd been seen at all until they opened fire. She hoped that fact would be noted by all the Captain's present.

"Captain Washington orders a speed increase to the convoy and escorts. The speed change results in the remaining Gamma targets having to change course, right through the remaining antimatter pods from the Einsteinium's destruction. Gamma One and Five were destroyed, Gamma Four seriously damaged."

Marrissa had credited that move as intentional. Certainly, she'd forgotten about the remaining antimatter field when she'd set the Gamma forces on that course. The two remaining Gamma Targets closed in while the Delta Targets were held back. Two ships were highlighted. "The Kukri and the Dagger started to break off to go after the remaining Gamma Targets at time index two sixty-five. Captain Washington ordered them back in formation. At time index two eighty-two, they closed in to fire. Return fire from all remaining Star Fleet Vessels destroyed the remaining Gamma Targets, but the Kurkri was destroyed."

"Time index two ninety-four," Marrissa said, as the Delta Targets were highlighted. "Delta Targets are coming in on the formation's weak side. The Dagger is shifted across the formation to cover, and the Prometheus shifts towards the oncoming forces. The convoy is kept to the starboard. Time index two ninety-nine, Delta Targets open fire at the same time as the remaining members of the Squadron. The Dagger is swiftly destroyed, and Delta splits the remaining, going through the resulting hole to the convoy."

"Time index three oh five, the convoy is destroyed along with the Prometheus. The Stargazer manages to evade destruction until time index three fourteen," Marrissa finished. She remained by the view screen though.

Portinmire unfolded his arms, and looked up and down his twelve captains. "Ladies and Gentlemen, we can do better than that," he said. Marrissa thought his glare could go right through any of those Captains. "There were a few good moves. While overall coordination was poor, towards the end, I did see some nice coordination with the last four ships. I expect that all weaknesses shown today will be addressed. Our next sim is tomorrow afternoon at the same time. I will be using my Beta OpFor Commander. Any questions?"

"Commodore, what is the first thing we can do to improve cohesion?" Washington asked. Marrissa was surprised that Washington had gotten the first question in. She'd expected Captain Luciani, due to his prior relationship with the Commodore.

"First, it's clear that seniority is not working for division commanders," Commodore Portinmire said. Marrissa saw Captain Kant frown at that. He was senior in Division Three. "This sim showed me exactly who our Division Three Commander should be. Captain Ignatius, the division is yours."

Marrissa looked over at Captain Ignatius. It was hard to tell if the Horta was pleased with the announcement. Actually, Marrissa couldn't tell much about the rock, at all. "Thank you, Commodore," the Captain of the Prometheus said.

A sharp exhale caused Marrissa to look over at Captain Gregory Kant of the Pele. She could read that Captain quite easily. It was clear from the man's frown, stiff posture, and glare directed at Captain Ignatius that he was not pleased with the announcement.

"With a good designated Division Commander, that division can work out coordination on that level," Portinmire said. "Then we will build the three divisions together."

"Sir, I must point out that we lack the luxury of training to perfection. Will this squadron continue to have access to logistics?" Captain Kant asked.

"We will be remaining at Starbase 375 for the next two weeks, Captain," Portinmire said. Marrissa felt the Commodore's tone was dry, as if he was trying to explain something obvious to someone who he'd explained it to a hundred times. "Access to repairs and resupply, will continue to be provided while we are here."

"Sir, will there be another sim dealing with forced-warp tactics to separate the fighters from the squadron?" Captain Luciani asked. Marrissa looked at the new Captain. There was some blue paint next to his communicator.

Portinmire glanced at Marrissa. After a moment's silence, she nodded slightly. "Pizarro, get with Picard and Gordon to see about an appropriate sim," Portinmire said.

The Andorian Captain of the Stiletto, Takt asked, "These results are worrying, especially as the Gamma wave of adversaries performed subpar relative to documented attacks. Which of our weak spots do you consider easiest to plug?"

This question Marrissa knew was going to be directed her way. It wasn't going to be an easy question to answer either. After a moment she answered the question, taking a deep breath. "Formation discipline could have prevented most of the problems," she said. The break up of the starting formation had given her way too many good openings.

"Commander Picard, may I ask you one question?" Lieutenant Commander Bradstreet asked. The auburn haired officer was the new commanding officer of Sacagewea. It's former commanding officer, Commander Caithness Quillon had moved to the Dagger. The command was a reward for him taking charge when that ship had lost it's entire bridge crew. Marrissa had to admit to being a little jealous of Bradstreet's good fortune.

Marrissa looked over at Commodore Portinmire, who nodded. "Go ahead," she said.

"What was the biggest mistake that the OpFor Commander made?" Bradstreet asked.

Marrissa paused for a full minute. This was not a question she had expected to be asked. She reflected on her moves as OpFor Commander for a moment. The poor moves on her opponents' parts had not stretched her talents much, at least in the early going. She could think of a couple places that she could have been countered, but wasn't. There was, however, just one that she could rank her biggest mistake.

"The OpFor Commander failed to remember the placement of the Antimatter field left behind by the destruction of the Federation's largest Antimatter tanker," Marrissa said. Marrissa tried to keep her tone even, but wasn't entirely sure she had. She was somewhat upset that she'd lost ships to what was effectively an antimatter mine field. "It made Gamma Force greatly reduced in its final run. Credit was given to Captain Washington for ordering the course change which caused Gamma Force to run into the field."

"I believe we've covered everything necessary," Commodore Portinmire said. " Captain Washington, Captain Ignatius, stay behind please. Everyone else, dismissed."

The Captains and First Officers filed out of the room, rather quickly. Marrissa took longer, having to pick up several PADDs. It hadn't been as bad as Marrissa had thought. In fact, she was well satisfied with how well she had done. Once she cleared the door and was sure she was out of sight of the other officers, she skipped to her quarters.


	11. Chapter 11

**Epilogue**

"I am a Slave of Duty," said the Pirate Frederic. "As a child I was regularly apprenticed to your band. It was through an error - no matter, the mistake was ours, not yours, and I was in honor bound by it."

Jay had taken Marrissa to see a Gilbert and Sullivan Opera. Normally, Marrissa would have objected, pleading that she had too much work. For once, she hadn't even attempted to. She would have missed out on what was so far looking like a very good Opera. Imagine, apprenticing a boy to a pirate instead of a pilot. Marrissa giggled.

Oh, it was nice to sit here next to Jay, with his strong arm around her shoulders, relaxed enough to giggle at the absurdities of the Pirates of Penzance, despite the formal dress she was wearing. The play was preformed on an almost empty stage, with just suggestions of the scenery. At the moment, it was a pirate vessel with a crowd of pirates surrounding the main characters of Frederic, the Pirate King, and Ruth.

"Well, then, it is my duty, as a pirate, to tell you that you are too tender-hearted," Frederic said. The actor reminded her a little bit of her cousin Martin. He had the same basic build, and affected a similar smile. "For instance, you make a point of never attacking a weaker party than yourselves, and when you attack a stronger party you invariably get thrashed."

"There is some truth in that," said the Pirate King, who reminded Marrissa of Commander Riker. Both had similar swaggers to their walks. Marrissa found herself agreeing with that tactical advice, as well.

"Then, again, you make a point of never molesting an orphan!" Frederic exclaimed.

"Of course: we are orphans ourselves, and know what it is." Samuel, another pirate said.

"Yes, but it has got about, and what is the consequence?" Frederic asked. Everyone we capture says he's an orphan. The last three ships we took proved to be manned entirely by orphans, and so we had to let them go. One would think that Great Britain's mercantile navy was recruited solely from her orphan asylums - which we know is not the case."

"But, hang it all! you wouldn't have us absolutely merciless?"

Merciless pirates, that was the norm, not this. Oh Marrissa could tell this opera was going to be fun to watch. She relaxed, snuggling up to Jay, letting his arm reach down to her waist. Her attention moved to the stage, the play no longer being analyzed but enjoyed. Not for a moment did her job enter her mind again that night, those worries being retired for now.

After Act One ended with the hilarious "I am an orphan boy," Marrissa walked out for the intermission. She snared what she was sure was sparkling grape juice from one of the circulating waiters as she waited for Jay to return.

It was a good thing she consumed it, and it's successor quickly, because as she turned around to look for Jay, she bumped hard into Commodore Portinmire. The glass flew out of her hand, but somehow Portinmire caught it. "Good Evening, Princess," he said. Marrissa had chosen to go with her more civilian attire, with her rather daring deep blue and silver evening dress. At the last second she'd put a simple silver tiara in hair to hold it back instead of her customary quick pony tail. "Are you enjoying the opera?"

"I am, sir," Marrissa said. The next sentence spilled out of her, her intention to hide it washed out. "Sir, I want to thank you so much for accepting me on the Indefatigable. The Stargazer is my first time living away from my family. And well, I needed the support you gave and respect you showed for me.." Marrissa felt her cheeks warm, and a giggle escaped her.

Portinmire appeared to be unaccustomed to such compliments, and merely nodded his acceptance of the thanks. He turned to the approaching Jay, "Good Evening, Lieutenant," Portinmire said. "I assume you are the Princess's escort for the evening."

"I have that honor, sir," Jay said, smiling. Marrissa liked Jay's smile. It brought out that cute little dimple on his left cheek. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight, your highness. If you'll excuse us, sir, I believe they're about to start the Second Act."

Marrissa leaned into Jay as he lead her out of the atrium. His arm wrapped around her as he held her close and secure. It was time to find out how the pirates would find out about the Major General's terrible story.


End file.
